Axis Powers Hetalia: The End of the Reich
1.
Sounds of artillery, explosions and soldiers could be heard outside. Prussia stood in front of a huge, now partially ruined, window and looked outside at the cloudy sky made red by fires raging below and by the approaching evening, and at the now ruined city view spreading below the sky. His face had a strangely introspective look on it. Some distance away from him sat Austria playing a miraculously intact piano. Behind Austria's back, on the floor, sat Estonia and Latvia. In the corner of the great hall stood silent and grumpy Denmark, who leaned at the wall with his foot. The northern state's face had an annoyed look on it.
"Well well", Prussia said with a smirk. "The enemies no longer seem to want to play with their little guns." Prussia was correct: the sound of artillery fire was dying out. Austria snorted. He had been in a very sad mood ever since Hungary had been captured by Soviet forces and the aristocratic musician couldn't at this point handle Prussia's cocky, arrogant smirk and talk.
"Don't you get it, you old Aristocat?" Prussia said and laughed. "Now when they have their little pause, we can attack and strike back!"
"Strike back?" Austria snorted and continued to play the piano. "With what? Our troops are at the breaking point, we are surrounded at all sides and our strongest ally Japan can no longer help us. In fact, he never could help us."
"Bah!" Prussia let out a dismissive laugh and slapped Austria friendly at the back. "Don't be such a gloomy wuss! West will handle this ruckus, you'll see! Even Russia's afraid of him!"
Austria straightened his glasses, which had nearly dropped because of Prussia's smack, and didn't bother to answer. He concentrated on playing some of Chopin's music and kept on reminiscing, with tears in in his eyes, about Hungary.
Estonia and Latvia looked at each other. They had been almost completely forgotten in this great Reich's hall, but it wasn't that bad. What was bad, though, was that they knew that soon Russia would come to take them "home". A great bronzen statue of Germany's eagle loomed over them at the wall, looking down at them, and it was still just as proud and cold as always, sending out a message of its master's pride and inner strength, but even it was now covered in dust. The empire was about to fall. It was spring, a spring that would only bring ruin and end to Germany's Third Reich.
"M-maybe we could try to go with Denmark to live with other Nordic countries?" Latvia said meekly to Estonia. Estonia simply shook his head. Germany's defeat was now inevitable and even though Denmark was about to be freed, he could not help the Baltics in any way. The Baltics were doomed to live under Russia's rule.
They heard heavy footsteps and the door to the hall opened. Austria stopped playing, Prussia's smirk died out and Denmark stirred from his aloofness.
Germany stepped inside in his ceremonial uniform, carrying a sword on his side and a visor cap on his head. He wore all his decorations, medals and badges of merit. That blue-eyed, tall and commanding man was silent and tired. But he had some strength, some unyielding presence about him, that others had not sensed in some time. But now they felt that there would be no more orders, no more commands. Something had changed.
Germany walked over to Prussia and Austria and looked at them both. He smiled a little, remembering better times and the men before him in good, old days.
"Mein Führer has committed suicide", Germany said in a simple, yet grandiose tone. "All defenses have fallen. There is no reason to carry on and continue this struggle."
"West", Prussia said in amazement. "Those men at Thermopylae fought to the bitter en-" Germany interrupted his brother by waving his hand in the air.
"I'm not Ancient Greece and I see no reason to fight on when I can't even buy time for anyone with it. This is the end of the Reich."
Silence dominated the hall. Prussia's mouth opened and closed when he searched for words to say to his brother, who, even in his hour of defeat, stood silently, serenely, without hesitation, in his place.
"Brother", Germany said finally. "I'm sorry that I dragged you into this mess." Then Germany turned to face Austria and smiled a little. "Soon my Führer's order will be overturned and you shall be your own country once more", he said. Austria nodded, but didn't smile. His face was deadly serious.
Germany left the two Germanic brothers and walked over to the Baltics. When he approached the smaller countries stood up and instinctively took a position of attention, but Germany simply shook his head. No more orders, no more discipline. He stroked Latvia's hair soothingly. "I couldn't protect you two from your eastern neighbor", Germany said in an apologizing tone. "I have betrayed my promise and soon you will once again live in Russia's house. I am sorry."
Finally Germany came over to Denmark. They looked at each other without coldness, but also without any great warmth. "You will be free again soon, Denmark."
Denmark simply waved his hand and let out a snort. "Yeah yeah, I already know that. And it's about time, it's been really boring lately. It's time to have some partying." Germany smiled a little bit and Denmark answered with his own smile. Germany had not treated him badly and he had always been very serious just about everything. But not, at the end, even this stone-faced man could appreciate a joke.
Germany turned and walked towards the hall's door. He stopped for a moment, looked behind him, made an odd smile and left.
"Hey West, where are you going?" Prussia shouted. Austria didn't snort this time, he simply gazed straight ahead without seeing anything.
"Isn't it obvious, Prussia? He's going away to die", Austria said quietly, stretched his fingers and started to play piano again. A tear fell from his eye.
Prussia recognized the tune. It was Chopin again. It was a funeral march.
2.
England, America, France and Russia were gathered in their HQ tent and were leaning over a map showing Germany's territories. They looked at the borders and signs they had drawn on the map approvingly – or at least America and Russia looked at them approvingly. France looked to be completely indifferent and England ogled angrily at America and Russia.
"I just can't understand why you fool gave in to that Russkie's requests", England scolded America in his mind. Russia had demanded a lot of territories from Germany's empire as a payment for all the damages this war had caused. England had protested – instead of Germany they would have Russia threatening Europe – but the care-free America had accepted Russia's proposals. "We'll have to fight again with people with red signs", England murmured to France. "But this time they won't have swastikas on those signs, but hammers and sickles." France nodded, but did it in an indifferent manner. He hadn't had a lot of say in these decisions anyway so now it was useless for England to seek his moral support.
A great stir went through people outside the tent. The Allies turned to look at the tent's doorway and an American trooper darted in. He was breathing heavily and looked almost terrified. "It's… it's Germany!" he shouted while waving his hand towards the doorway.
The Allies stormed out. And what the soldier had said was true: Germany, in his dress uniform, walked through the ranks of the Allies' soldiers proud, unyielding, not paying attention to all the onlookers, towards the HQ tent. It was as if the war had never been, as if a general dressed in his finest garments was simply visiting some of his colleagues.
Germany halted in front of the amazed Allies. He looked at every one of them for some time. France shivered before Germany's gaze, for he had been subject to that nation's might; England answered Germany's gaze with his own, steady gaze and even nodded approvingly, as one equal to other; America was clearly feeling uncomfortable and even somewhat embarrassed in his own military outfit when Germany stood before him in his finest uniform tall and proud, without even flinching a muscle in his face; and Russia… Russia simply smiled. Soon he would have a new vassal state.
"Mein… My Führer is dead", Germany proclaimed, keeping his voice steady, but France and England both noted a slight tremor in it, revealing some of the emotional turmoil inside. "The war has been lost. It is over." Germany's hand, resting on his sword's hilt, trembled, so tense this former lord of Europe was. "Do what you have come to do."
Germany's right hand was raised in salute, but not in a Nazi salute, but a military salute. He stood there like a statue, but a single tear rolled down his cheek. He had lost everything, even his allies, even his friend Italy. Now Germany would loose himself.
England opened his mouth to say something, but Russia was quicker. "It's good that you came to your senses. Now we can discuss your future as part of our great family." Everyone who heard that felt a chill in their spines – everyone knew that Russia only talked about his own family and in what kind of condition people in that family lived.
For the first time Germany looked straight at Russia and there was such rage in his eyes that even Russia's smile faltered. "I will not surrender to barbarians from the east", Germany snapped, clenching his teeth together so hard that one might have expected blood to come out. "I will never submit to you. Even if you tried for a thousand years, I will not submit, I will not serve you, I will not accept you. Return to your onion-shaped domes, Russia, you will get nothing from here."
The Allies listened to Germany's outburst with shock on their faces. At first Russia was confused, then disappointed, and finally he felt a strange mixture of anger and respect for Germany. Even here, at the end of all things, this proud country, this heir to the glory of the Holy Roman Empire, defied him and the rest of the world.
America raised his hand and aimed his pistol at Germany's chest. England was shocked.
"H-hey, what do you think you are doing?" he shouted and grapped America by arm, but the younger brother was too strong. The arm trembled, but the gun was still pointed at Germany.
"I have to!" America cried out. He didn't want to do this – he wanted adventures and great experiences, not executions and terminations. But the order had come down from Washington D.C. and the White House: Germany should never again rise. It had to be ended for all time, so that it could never again threaten the world with another war. And America had to obey. One shot, one single shot, and the world could live in peace. Why was it so painful, then?
Germany looked at America in his eyes and kept his hand at his brow. "I will die a soldier's death", he said and heard someone running far behind him. "But my people, my people will never die. May God always be with them."
"West!" Prussia's voice could be heard and a silver-haired figure pushed and shoved people away from his path when he struggled desparately to reach Germany. "Don't be stupid, not now, it's not your time-!"
Tears flowed openly from Germany's eyes. He was not ready to hear his brother's voice now, not here. He wanted his brother to have a better life than he could give, a better future, a future that could only be achieved if Prussia would be free from Germany's dark past, from his dark deeds.
"Do it, you bastard!" Germany shouted at America with his voice trembling. "Stop playing a hero and do your duty!"
America whimpered, but as the silent Allies looked on, he pulled the trigger.
A shot. Germany moved a little bit, but just a little bit, when the bullet hit him. The face of hate and agony was replaced by an odd, serene smile. His chest was colored red and he fell to the ground, still keeping his hand in salute.
Prussia throwed himself at Germany and whimpered. The great warrior, the Teutonic Order, the Kingdom of Prussia,the companion of Old Fritz, the executor of the Empire, was weeping at his brother's side. He embraced Germany and dirtied his uniform in blood and tears, both his own and of Germany.
"West..! It wasn't meant to end like this..! You can't end like this! Never!" Prussia screamed. Germany closed his teary, reddish eyes, and whispered to Prussia's ear: "May God always be with our people."
Russia stepped beside the weeping Prussia and put his hand on his shoulder.
"Don't cry in vain", he smiled. "One Germany dies, another comes in as a replacement. You will be a new Germany in our great family, da? You have already been given to me on the map and now when America terminated that one, someone has to be Germany."
Prussia whimpered, cried and screamed in sorrow. He didn't listen. He didn't resist when Russia forced him to stand up and when Russia pushed him away from Germany's body. He didn't listen, he didn't understand, he didn't know anything. His whole world was filled with bottomless sorrow, dark loss and need to be with his brother once more. He didn't resist when Russia took him away and led him to the Soviet troops.
The three Allies looked when the two men departed. America was shaking and whimpering.
"Why… Why didn't he do anything?" The eyeglassed man asked. He simply couldn't, he didn't want to understand and believe what he had done.
"Because 'e is le vrai guerrier, a true warrior", France said quietly, strangely moved.
England kneeled beside Germany and felt something in his throat. All their battles in Africa, at the Mediterranean, at the North Sea, across Norway's lands, in Western Europe… It all ended here in this. In blood, in tears and in loss.
Suddenly England noticed something. At first he thought that he had imagined it, but soon he had his confirmation.
"He is still alive", England whispered and looked at the slow motion of Germany's chest.
3.
Germany opened slowly his eyes, feeling pain. At first light, colors and shadows were mixed in a chaotic pattern before his eyes, but finally his eyesight got better and he could see properly.
He was in a building of some sort – no, not in "some sort", but in a hospital. He laid on a bed and his chest was aching. A white bandage had been placed around it and there was a great red spot close to his heart. "America isn't the best of shooters", Germany thought with some amusement.
"You are awake", Germany heard England's voice say and he moved his gaze somewhat. France, England and America were sitting on chairs around his bed. His uniform and sword had been left in a pile next to his bed. Germany stretched his hand and closed it around the medals and awards on his uniform, feeling their metal surfaces. He was alive and awake, yes.
"That's… that's good", America said with a broken, exhausted, but still relieved voice. "It's really good. We need… your help. No, I mean, we'd like to have your hel- I mean… We expect you to show your gratitude at the fact that we didn't execute you immediately when you came before us", America spluttered feeling France's gaze. Maybe France felt some respect for Germany's courage, but to ask for help from this kraut, who had occupied France's territories for four years? Never.
"To what end?" Germany asked and tightened his grip on one certain decoration. It was a small, round piece of metal, which he managed to remove from his uniform.
"Russia has managed to add the entire Eastern Europe to his… family, including your brother Prussia", England answered. "Russia calls Prussia Germany now."
Your brother Prussia… My brother Prussia… Mein Bruder Preussen…
"Carry on", Germany said and England obeyed to his slight surprise and annoyance. Germany was at their mercy, why did he talk to them like he would talk to some lower-ranking soldiers?
"Like I was saying, Russia is now a clear threat to free nations with his little 'family'. We want that someone is there to face his armies, if he decides to go to war one day."
"And that someone is me."
"Yes, precisely you. If East has its Germany, surely West must have its own Germany", England said and felt some dark amusement. America didn't say anything. It had taken a lot of effort that he, England and England's superiors had managed to convince American leadership that Germany must survive. Now America felt himself too tired to speak.
"We need someone who 'as a good reason to 'ate Russia and to loathe 'im", France continued. "You are very good at it, all zings considered. And your military skills 'have won you some… renown." This acknowledgement was bitter for France.
The Allies stood up. They didn't ask if Germany would accept their offer. He had no choice – they wouldn't give him any choice and Germany's blue eyes had such fearsome fire in them that it was clear to anyone that he didn't give himself any choice, either.
"I'm sorry about your brother", France said after a moment of silence. "But you 'have to remember that 'e is your enemy now. 'e is Russia's lackey now and a competing Germany for you. Forget zat you are brothers."
Forget that you are brothers…
The Allies left Germany to lie on his bed. He kept the decoration his fist and tightened the grip. He hadn't looked at it even once and the Allies hadn't paid any attention to what Germany's hand was doing.
Forget that you are brothers…
The fist was ever tighter and tighter. Pain spread from it and reached Germany's brain, but he didn't care. Ever tighter he clenched his fist, until the decoration was twisted almost completely shapeless. Then he threw it away from himself. It gave out a slight, metallic sound, like a coin, when it hit the floor and stayed there. In the weak light condition of the room one could barely see that it was a golden membership badge of the Nazi party, now twisted, ruined and abandoned.
Forget that you are brothers…
"Never!" Germany shouted suddenly and ignored the pain in his chest. The Reich had come to an end, but Germany had not. And Germany would rescue his brother, even if it would take him centuries to do so.
We will always be brothers. And we will never forget that.