AN: Second fanfic o3o Link to translation for the lyrics at the bottom~
Of all the ways he expected to go, it was never like this. Not curled up in bed, quietly dying. He had always thought that he would go down in an awesome blaze of glory, a final desperate charge before he bled out in a battlefield, corpse being trampled under the feet of his countrymen and enemies. But no, it was not to be. He was fated to die without so much as a punch thrown in his name. He wouldn't get one last chance for the thrill of battle that he had loved so much, that he had thrived on for all the years of his life.
Komm in mein Boot
ein Sturm kommt auf
und es wird Nacht
Wo willst du hin
so ganz allein
treibst du davon
How ironic.
How sad.
It was February 25th, 1947. He, the great Prussia, ex-empire and remnants of the Teutonic Order and state of Germany, was dying. Prussia was alone, aside from his little brother in the room by his bed. Germany would have been completely stoic, if it weren't for the tears sliding down his face.
Prussia began to talk, but his voice grated unnaturally against his throat and he began to cough.
"Bruder, don't try to—"
Gaining control of his voice, he gave Germany a weary glare.
"I'm going to die, anyway, West; it makes no difference." He said harshly, watching the way Germany's jaw clenched and stayed silent.
Wer hält deine Hand
wenn es dich
nach unten zieht
Wo willst du hin
so uferlos
die kalte See
Prussia closed his scarlet eyes, still breathing; but only just. Behind his eyelids he saw once again the scene of battle, a scene from back in the day; oh, those glorious days. In his right hand he felt the slightest of twinges; his hand begged him to feel the handle of a sword once more, not the unhonorable, efficient, yet cold, disgusting gun which he hated so much. He clenched his hand tightly into a fist.
Why? Why him?
"West." Prussia said suddenly, opening his eyes again and unclenching his hand.
Germany looked up and into the crimson eyes of his older brother.
"Yes, bruder?"
Komm in mein Boot
der Herbstwind hält
die Segel straff
Prussia's hand weakly tugged off a necklace from his own neck; the iron cross, beaten and worn… much more so than his younger brother's. "Keep this safe for me."
Silently, Germany took it from him.
Why did he give up his prized 'Iron Cross': his symbol, his legacy? A futile attempt to prevent himself from being forgotten. Prussia in the back of his mind, knew he would be forgotten anyway, even with the Iron Cross in Germany's possession.
The people were ashamed, Germany would forget him to spare himself the pain of remembering his lost brother. Yes, he was going to be forgotten.
But he gave up his Iron Cross anyway. He wouldn't need it; the dead had no need for possessions from this world.
Jetzt stehst du da an der Laterne
mit Tränen im Gesicht
das Tageslicht fällt auf die Seite
der Herbstwind fegt die Straße leer
Were the bloody struggles of his life- his blood-saturated history, all for nothing? All the work he did, to make himself great, to make himself a name, wasted and rotting in an old history book buried under piles of others books to be forgotten?
He briefly wondered where he was headed. Surely there was no place for him in heaven, but he didn't want to go to hell. No, not at all. But if there was no place for him in heaven there was no other option, was there?
Komm in mein Boot
die Sehnsucht wird
der Steuermann
Komm in mein Boot
der beste Seemann
war doch ich
He could feel his body, the body that had lasted him over several hundred years, dying. It scared him, it scared him that he could feel his life fading more and more as the seconds ticked by.
"West…" His hand groped around blindly and grabbed Germany's hand. His voice was softer now; weaker.
"Yes, Bruder?"
"I don't want to be alone."
"I'm right here with you, bruder."
"No you aren't." Prussia said quietly with a small, frail laugh.
Dying was a lonely affair.
Jetzt stehst du da an der Laterne
hast Tränen im Gesicht
das Feuer nimmst du von der Kerze
die Zeit steht still und es wird Herbst
He looked up at the ceiling as his eyelids grew heavier. And slowly they closed, obscuring crimson irises. How anticlimactic, dying in such a way.
He surrendered his last breath.
And Prussia was no more.
Sie sprachen nur von deiner Mutter
so gnadenlos ist nur die Nacht
am Ende bleib ich doch alleine
die Zeit steht still
und mir ist kalt
Lyrics are from Seemann by Rammstein, lyrics and translation can be found here: .com/lyrics/rammstein-seemann-lyric-with-english-translation/
