Okay, so this was inspired by the little keychain of Germany my friend gave me for Christmas (it's the one of the best damn presents I've ever gotten…) And I noticed his eyes were purple. –cue the flashback-

…*silence*…

*presses remote and slams it against computer* Dammit! Here we go…

cake-error: *is sitting in French class staring at keychain* HOLY FUCK, HIS EYES ARE PURPLE!

cake-error's friend, for these purposes called Piper: What?

cake-error: His eyes are purple! They're supposed to be blue! *sobs*

Piper: WELL THEN, if you don't appreciate the gift-

cake-error: No, it's just they're different-like sometimes they make Prussia's eyes purple even though they're red…wait…

Piper: What?

cake-error: WAAAAIIIT. I just thought of something. I have to write this down now.

Piper:…um…sure…

…um, that was a dramatization (I didn't scream holy fuck his eyes are purple, but that was the gist of it), but that's pretty much how it went! Anyway, let's move on. This is…uh…lesssay it's Germany and Prussia in like the aftermath of the last battle of WWII?...this will be so totally historically wrong, this story, but just go with it.


He fell down onto his knees, blond hair tinged red and plastered across his forehead. His green uniform, already torn, did nothing to protect him from the broken ground.

"Bruder…" He looked up at his brother, who kneeled next to him, face a mask of agony. "What a fitting place to die; with no one but ourselves to keep us company, and no one else to blame for this."

Prussia growled. "As long as your people are not wiped off of the face of the earth, we can't end our freakishly long lives. Don't you dare die on me." He choked and coughed up blood clots; they dripped to the ground and pooled in gelatinous lumps.

He smiled grimly. "Of course not, East."

Another bomb hit the city, sending rubble crashing down, and bringing a fresh wave of pain. He clutched his chest, feeling the blood cascade, soaking his uniform with dark red blood.

"Goodbye…"

!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!

It was dark.

It was dark, and he could feel nothing, like he had been cut away and all that was left was that which could form this conclusion.

He whispered into the darkness. "Gilbert? Are you there?"

A raspy voice responded. "West…?"

"Are we alive? Or is this what happens to us when we really die for the last time?"

"I think we're alive."

They grew quiet.

"Can you feel anything? I think…" He opened his eyes to a churning night sky, hands stiff and coated with his own blood.

"Bruder?" He said into the silence. The world was silent. No one could respond.

"Bruder…?"

!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!_!

He pulled a hand through pale, silvery blond hair, eyes shadowed and face drawn with a dull, throbbing pain. Blinking, he looked back into the mirror.

Purple eyes stared back.

A twisting stab of pain shot through him. Purple, like blue overlaid with red. Red.

"Bruder…?" The same question he had issued so long ago.

I'm still here, after all this time…

I'll always be with you. East and West Germany, finally together. Kind of poetic, isn't it?s We'll never be the same…

"Together always…" He touched his cheek gently, as if expecting another face to surface through his own. "Never the same…"


Eh...this is another one of those ideas that sound awesome but turn out like crap. I didn't like how it went, but I ended it, and now my brain can rest.