First Hetalia fanfiction. Inspired by Doppelganger by Beyond The Forbidden, and another fanfiction that I unfortunately can't remember the name. Hetalia belongs to its owner, who is obviously not me. I do not, in any way, condone whatever crimes that occured during World War 2, nor do I intend to point fingers at any party. Hetalia is a fictional comic with humourous personifications of the countries, with no ill intent. My World War 2 history is practically nil, so please advise if I get my facts wrong, or if my portrayal of the characters are OOC. Any comments that are constructive are craved. I'm not really good at writing fanfiction, but I appreciate whatever criticisms you throw at me. I now present to all my readers...: Struggle of the Fatherland A serious and efficient man who always abides by the rules, Germany has to deal with an unreasonable boss... - Hetalia Archives (Germany)
Prologue: The thoughts in my head, the hate in my heart
November 21 1932
So cold...so hungry...
He did his best to maintain his poise, back ramrod straight, eyes staring ahead.
But that did nothing to sooth the pain inside him.
Day by day, he has to live with his people in suffering. Feel their hurt, their betrayal, their hate and depression.
His country had hit an all time low. Unemployment was high, inflation was sky-rocketing, crime rates were going up, food was scarce...the list just kept going on and on.
It killed him in the inside to know that he was responsible for this disaster. It wasn't entirely his fault, but that didn't exclude him from the blame. His heart tightened as another child dropped dead in the city from lack of food. His throat was dry and raw as former friends fought each other for clean water in a dead city. His eyes were nearly sliding shut as a father worked the night through, trying to earn enough to keep his family alive.
How far the mighty has fallen. Once, he was great, a powerful Nation. He could bend bars with his bare hands, smash through walls, plow through whatever that was thrown at him. The earth trembled before his army as they marched, the heavens in awe of his military might. His people were happy, singing songs in the pub, children running and playing in the streets. But now, he was stripped down. Everything had been taken from him. His strength had been reduced to nothing. There were no more happy tunes, so more cheerful laughter. He can't remember a time when things were this bad. He would do anything, anything at all, to relieve them of their suffering and his.
Which was why, today, he would be meeting a man who had boldly proclaimed that he could do all that.
Dressed in his military attire, he stood to attention beside his leader, a man so burdened with responsibilities that he seemed to stoop from all the weight from his shoulders. The both of them had seen plenty, but he had of course seen more. That did not mean, though, that he did not feel the pain of the people. They had both worked hard, trying to solve their debts, trying to put food on the table. But nothing was working. The debts just kept increasing, no matter how much they paid off. Things were getting desperate.
His ice blue eyes narrowed, as he thought of all those who had done this to him. Humiliated him. Degraded him. Treated him like trash, like dirt. Especially that French frog. God, how he wanted to rip every strand of that man's hair, just to see that smirk wiped off his face. That young brat deserved equally as much a punishment. Who was he to tell him what to do? He was a Nation far older, far wiser, far stronger compared to that brat. Lecturing him on what was good and right, just and fair, when he was increasing the interest rates on the debts, tightening the noose around the neck of the people.
It had shocked him badly when no one had came to his aid, to his defence. True, he was guilty, but the sin was not all his. Yet they acted as if so. Everybody, all his old friends, had abandoned him. Nobody looked at him anymore, talked to him anymore. They avoided him like the plague. Even his best friend...if he could call him a friend anymore. Nobody wanted to be associated with him. The only one who stuck around was his brother. And even then, he too suffered from his ties with him.
It was sickening, how they could go around loudly proclaiming liberty, truth and justice when they themselves were nothing like that. Hyprocrites!
The door swung open and the man of the hour arrived. He eyed him carefully. He was not entirely one of his, that he could tell. But the confidence in his steps and the determination in his eyes was promising. It had been a long time since he had seen such hope in a man.
Introductions were made, of course, his true identity kept secret until this man proved himself. He and his leader sat down on chairs as the man began his presentation though. However, scarcely 5 minutes in, and he found himself drawn towards his voice, that smooth tone. The voice of authority.
He promised many things. To make his country great again. To bring smiles back to the faces of the people. To have meat and bread in every household, plenty for all to share. Vengeance for the gross injustice dealt towards them. At this his tone picked up, a feverish zeal that seemed to radiate from him. He could feel it affecting him as well, as his heart lightened and his blood started to rush. He leaned forward slightly, his blue eyes never leaving the man, his fists clenched tightly.
Outlining military strategies and policies, he pointed out weaknesses of the other countries, army rebuilding schemes, blueprints for war factories, training programs...all leading back to the return of what was rightfully his in the beginning. He swallowed. It sounded to good to be true, yet the data...
But then, it all came crashing down.
The man started talking about the Aryans, and that was when Ludwig snapped out of his spell.
Elimination of the Jews? Getting rid of the impure? Euthanize the disabled?
Ludwig stared, but not in awe this time. With disgust. The man didn't seem to notice, so wrapped up with his ideals and thoughts that he missed the glare that the Nation was giving him.
Everyone who called Germany home were his people. There was no discrimination between them. Sure enough, people were no happy that the Jews were richer than others, but that is to be expected, seeing as majority of them were in the banking profession. He would've felt it if they were going against him. Weren't there Jews in the army as well? Jews who gave their lives for him, fought for him, died for him. Rage started to cloud his thoughts, and he was finding it difficult to pay attention.
Eventually though, the meeting ended, and that man walked over and shook hands with his leader. He extended his hand towards Ludwig, and for a moment he was tempted to spit into it. But courtesy dictates otherwise. He stiffly gripped the man's hand before letting do, careful to not let the thoughts in his head show on his face on what exactly he thought of this man.
After the man left, Ludwig turned to his leader.
"He is a lunatic."
His leader sighed and rubbed his temples.
"True. But you must admit that his policies were good, Fatherland."
Ludwig nearly slammed his hand on the table.
"He was speaking of killing our kind!" He hissed. "Like they were rats, vermin! I will not accept such a man as my leader!"
His leader turned to him, a sad expression on his face.
"Fatherland...you know how bad things are. If we were to follow his ideas, but tone it down...there is no denying that it would do both you and the people a great amount of good."
Ludwig growled, but couldn't finish his retort as yet again, someone dies, starving and famished. He bites his lip and looks down.
His leader walks by him, stopping to give him a salute. Just as he was about to walk away though, he hesistantly gives the Nation a pat on the back.
"Sometimes, sacrifices must be made, in order for others to survive." He mumbled. "I will take measures to ensure that they will be minimal..."
Ludwig stoically keeps his eyes on the ground, before replying. "My Thanks."
His leader nods and leaves the room.
Ludwig collapses on the chair, his hand on his heart. His people were crying, and suffering, and dying...if things carried on, even he...
A tiny voice said, at the back of his head,
"You know what he says is true. The date doesn't lie."
Ludwig shook his head fiercely. He leaves the room, leaves the building. But he cannot leave the bad thoughts behind.
"It all makes sense doesn't it? It's all their fault. You know what to do..."
He slapped himself, determined not to sink so low. He will not turn into a tyrant! But a tiny seed of doubt and hatred had already started to take root deep within his heart.
So cold...so hungry...
