Mein Schatz

Chapter 1: Hard Times

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Guten Abend, gute Nacht,
mit Rosen bedacht,
mit Näglein besteckt,
schlupf′ unter die Deck!
Morgen früh, wenns Gott will,
wirst du wieder geweckt.

Guten Abend, gute Nacht,
von Englein bewacht,
die zeigen im Traum
dir Christkindleins Baum.
Schlaf nun selig und süß,
schau im Traum ′s Paradies.

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This was a terrible time for Germany. The Cold War was at its peak, his former enemies squabbling viciously for power as they flexed their muscles to test each other's strengths as well as to prove their own. To make matters even worse, Germany was on the brink of collapse, callously split in two and slowly drained of all his resources in reparation payments. Austria had suffered the same fate as punishment for its alliance with him, and now any communication between the two was forbidden. No word from Italy. Germany clenched his teeth whenever his mind conjured the name. The treacherous swine, switching sides to suit his own ends! But then, he could not blame Italy himself, just as anybody else had no right to blame Germany himself for the tragedy that had occurred in his name.

Suffice to say, Germany had never felt so bereft, humiliated, and broken since the Treaty of Versailles way back when, but now the pain was far harsher, with the added disgrace of what his generals had got up to these past years...Oh God, he shuddered to think of it, and cringed in shame. The harassment of Jews was bad enough...but mass murder? Concentration camps? Starvation and disease? What on earth had happened? Where had it all gone wrong? Everything—the economy, the army, the industry, the people—everything had been fine! But all of a sudden...Everything was ruined. All that was left of this once great and powerful nation was a desecrated industry, Berlin split apart by a great wall (by those damned Soviets, no less), separating people as if they were lab animals, the country itself divided like the last morsel of food and devoured between three powers, with one half ruled by those Communist sons of bitches. Oh God...

Overcome, Germany lent over his desk, head in his hands. Tears came, but for once he was not ashamed of them.

A knock at the door roused his awareness, and Germany hastily cleared his throat and wiped his eyes.

'Who is there?' he questioned, trying to restore former gruffness to his voice to hide the emotion.

'Vatti*?' a little girl's voice called.

His daughter, Bavaria. Before the country was divided, Germany had managed to rescue his youngest child and take her back to his house before anything could befall her. His wife had taken the rest and immigrated to Switzerland, where they would be safe within its neutral confines. Now, it was only himself and Bavaria left.

'O-oh, come in!' Germany bade her, trying his best to smile as his youngest daughter graced him with her childish presence.

She was a darling little thing, dressed in a small dress traditional of the Southern region in which she was raised. The outfit consisted of a black satin bodice over a white blouse, frilled red skirt with a white apron tied around it, long white stockings, spotless black shoes and a matching velvet hat, out of which flowers and a white feather sprung. The hat adorned her flowing golden ringlets, which bounced a little as she took it off in the presence of the father she adored. Smiling sweetly, Bavaria, skipped over to her father's desk and peered into his face concernedly.

'Vatti, what is the matter?' she asked, stretching out a hand to pat him on the head. 'You look sad.'

Germany gazed into those large, sapphire-blue eyes identical to his own, and knew there was no deceiving her. He could not.

'Ja, Vatti is very sad,' he admitted quietly. 'Our country is divided, our money and our industry taken from us, and our people bereft of pride and loved ones through their cruelty.' Germany clenched his teeth as raw emotion came spilling out, voice rising with every syllable. 'What have we done? What have we done to deserve such bitter punishment? It was not Germany who did those horrendous things! It was only a minority of individuals! Why must an entire country pay? Why must you and I pay? Our people? Why?'

In his rage, Germany slammed his fist with a bang on the desk's wooden surface, making his daughter jump. Tears were in her eyes. He gazed at her, face wrought with agony, and looked down at his trembling fist in despair.

'Yeah, Vatti...you're the best daddy in the whole world! You're a good man! W-why are they doing this to us...?' she whimpered, burying herself in her father's chest, sobbing. 'I'm scared! I want everything to go back to the way it was when we were all happy!'

Germany embraced his daughter with intense emotion, biting his tongue to stop his own tears.

'I know, mein Schatz**...I know,' he murmured hoarsely. 'Don't worry...Vatti will protect you. Soon everything will be better. I...I promise.'

Through the window, behind them, the dark clouds obscured the sun, and there was nothing but shadow.

In the hush, Germany began to murmur the song so near and dear to his and his daughter's hearts, the lullaby she dreamt happy dreams to, sounding sad and mournful in the empty house.

'Good evening, good night,
With roses adorned,
With carnations covered,
Slip under the covers.
Tomorrow morning, if God wants so,
you will wake once again.

Good evening, good night.
By angels watched,
Who show you in your dream
the Christ-child′s tree.
Sleep now peacefully and sweetly,
see the paradise in your dream...'

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*Vatti: Daddy

**Mein Schatz: 'My treasure', or 'My sweetheart'.