Dimming Lights

A post WWI story

The Case of Prussia: Dream
Summary Quote: "It was the dream of a great man for me to become as great as I could be."
Characters: Prussia, Germany, Austria, Hungary
Theme: Treaty of Versailles

Even the act of moving was searing agony now.

"Fuck you, Arthur." Gilbert had woken up in the early hours of the morning, body soaked with a cold sweat. He had been startled from his nightmare and now his middle, sides, and limbs were burning in response to the sudden movement of him jerking awake. He grumbled, and didn't particularly want to get up, not when he knew that he was only going to further aggravate his broken body, and burn energy his ridiculous rations could never even hope to replenish. Even though he knew that people needed taking care of and his stomach would only growl more if he ignored it. He knew he was a nation, but come the hell on- nations still needed to eat, just as much as humans did. He was willing to fast, but his brother was unused to being starved as he was. So he had been getting most of the rations in the house. But he digressed- he couldn't do anything about it..

In the wake of the grudge match that had been the Great War, Prussia and Germany and their allies had been half dead, when Arthur and Francis- backed by Alfred's army- had given his young inexperienced brother a dictat- give into whatever terms they wished upon or, naturally, be invaded and demolished further. There hadn't been much of a choice, and now they were like a horse being told to gee-up when its feet weren't even touching the ground. But, what could they do? While neither Arthur nor Francis really had the force to make them keep to the treaty, Alfred certainly had that power. That power and more.

That's why they agreed.

Oh boy, what hellish terms they were. It was like an old bar fight, with Alfred coming in at the end and punching Ludwig through a wall, before a very smug looking black-eyed Francis decided to raid their wallet, and put the damages of the fight on their tabs.

Prussia was in bed for another few minutes, before he felt as though he would go stir crazy if he didn't get up and move. So, grunting, he forced himself up. He hissed as he cracked his back. When he was up onto his feet, he shuffled into the living room, hands holding him up using a wall. He smacked Roderich from where he slept on the couch. "Get up- I can't help all your ungrateful asses myself." But, he didn't get up. He didn't even stir, and Gilbert let out a very hearty curse. "Oh no, you fucker. Did you go and get yourself sick again?" He felt his forehead, and his insides felt like they melted. He shuffled to the kitchen, and gathered their rations, checking Hungary and Germany both. If they were sick….why wasn't he?

He skipped breakfast to ensure they kept up their strength, feeding them all by hand.

In the end, it didn't matter. They dropped like flies only hours later. He ended the whole fiasco by putting blankets over their corpses, waiting for them to revive. He placed it over his brother's slack face- the only time he ever looked relaxed was in death, and even then, he still looked a bit tense with the crease in his brow. It sickened him to even look at his brother's still face, even though he looked like he was just relaxed a bit.

Damn, he needed a smoke.

He went through his stash, and lit the cigar, taking in deep drags. This was going to cost him later, but he had just watched his brother's fever induced death, likely splattered with hallucinations and he didn't have him by his side. He hadn't wanted his brother to die painfully, ever. That's why he hadn't let him out on the war front until the ending years, when he hadn't been strong enough to keep on going. Gilbert sighed again, and started to speak aloud now that no one was there to hear him being weak.

"I wonder what Bismarck would think of me now?" Gilbert mused. "I just lost one hell of a war, and Germany's been sliced up like a goose on Christmas. Let alone the debt…the restrictions….or the treaty….." He shook his head. "Realpolitik was a French word originally, raison d'etat, so why did Francis make such a cruel term for us? We didn't even start it, only joined in. This was just a game of revenge for him, wasn't it?" Gilbert rubbed the nape of his neck, and leaned back. "He certainly doesn't practice what he preached."

"What about the fact I don't have control over you?" He looked towards his brother again. "That was his dream, you know. He wanted a Germany united under the mighty Hohenzollern crown. But…." He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm dying. I won't die, not yet, but….I can feel your people as a people that are no longer mine. You are entirely separate. I'm guessing that would make him angrier than anything else. Gilbert, I told you not to fuck this up!" He laughed, "Kesesese, I can even hear him /now/. He's going to pull my ears all the way to the seventh layer of hell for this one."

Gilbert closed his eyes. "Don't think I'm scared or anything. I don't regret a single decision I made. Maybe losing Bismarck, then perhaps this whole war wouldn't have happened. But, I don't regret you. I love you, Lutz. Now wake up and avenge me!" He joked, waving the cigar. He took another drag. "Not really, of course- I couldn't ask you to do that."

"It was the dream of a great man for me to become as great as I could be." He said, very coolly, as he looked to Ludwig and felt every one of his years crush him down, while he took his cold hand and squeezed it. "I don't actually consider myself a great man, not someone that can change the course of Europe like he could, but….It's my dream for you to be as great as you can be, and I'll protect you from the bad things in life until the end. I hope I can accomplish it."

As a harsh knocking came from his door, he stood and threw the cigar to the ground. The Allied guards were here to check on him. He shuffled to the door, and opened it to the soldiers outside.

A/N: I just wanted to write something about how the world was like in the wake of the First world war, since really the only stories I've seen about it are about the roaring twenties and how awesome they were. This is a series of one-shots, each one focusing on a different character from the series.

History note: What's a great man? It's a man who literally changed the course of history. Think Napoleon, think Bismarck- without these men, history would be very different. The Great Man Theory was a popular 19th century idea according to which history can be largely explained by the impact of "great men", or heroes: highly influential individuals who, due to either their personal charisma, intelligence, wisdom, or Machiavellianism utilized their power in a way that had a decisive historical impact.