Divided

In that moment, when the final thing was decided, Prussia felt his heart sink.

It was settled then.

"Nein! No! You can't be serious!" Germany's shout roared through the large room, his chair falling to the floor with a clatter as he stood.

"Be quiet," England demanded, not looking up as he arranged his papers with only his right hand, the left in a sling. Darks circles had formed around the isle nations eyes and he looked tired, fragile almost. Yet his voice held a tone of one you did not argue with. The case was closed.

But Germany ignored the warning. "B-but why! God damn it, why him? I demand a prober answer to that!"

"Shut your trap!" America slammed his hands against the table before pointing an accusing finger at Germany. "You lost any right to demand anything after what you and your leader did!" His deep blue eyes flashed with ice cold fury. The happy-go-lucky attitude had vanished during the war when the American had seen his fellow nations hurt, some so badly it would take centuries before they were healed - and even then fat scars would cover their body for everyone to remember what cruelty had taken place. It had especially taken its toll on him when he had realised that he wouldn't be able to save them all, being forced to hold back and to watch some crash and burn. The young nation had matured dramatically during the war, and it saddened many to see how the ever present smile had turned into a hardened mask.

England put a reassuring hand on his arm and America took a moment to look at his former caretaker, his expression softening to one of sadness and helplessness for a moment before hardening once again. He turned to Germany once more.

"You have no say in this. It has been decided," America said through gritted teeth. "We are taking over. France in the Southwest, England in the Northwest, I, the United States, in the South and-" There was a pause as America shifted his gaze to a point above Prussia's left shoulder and nodded. "...The Soviet Union in the East."

Russia had moved to stand behind the Prussian's chair, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder, crumbling the crisp and perfectly ironed blue uniform beneath.

Prussia let his silvery fringe hide his eyes as he pushed back his chair and stood, trying not to show any signs of the physical and mental pain he felt. He had yet to utter a word during the whole thing. No fighting back. He knew a lost battle when he saw one...

Germany spun around to the shorter nation beside him, his eyes wide, before turning back to the Allies and all the other nations gathered in the room.

"Wait! You know I couldn't have done anything to oppose my boss's commands. It's the same for all of you!" He searched the room for familiar and kind eyes. They were all familiar but none of them kind. He turned to look for his former allies. The Italy brothers were clutching each other's hands. Veneciano's hiccupping sobs clenched the German's already hurting heart, as the Italian hid his face against Romano's chest. Southern Italy had tears in his eyes as well, but he let them fall without a sound. Germany shifted his eyes again, but remembered then that Japan was still too weak from the attacks on Nagasaki and Hiroshima to even join the meeting. In the end he turned back to the person beside him. Prussia could feel that heavy gaze on him, but didn't look up. It was best if Germany just gave up. They had lost. They had done some terrible things and now they were to receive their punishments.

"Prussia, say something! B-brother please," he begged and made a frantic move to get to him, but the other nations were ready and China had him in a lock before he could even blink.

"Don't even think about it," England barked, as he too, with the help from France, got up and limped over to stand in front of the taller nation. Acid green eyes locked with icy blue.

"Look around, Germany. No one wants this to continue." They both looked briefly at the other nations. Some, like Denmark and Norway had more shallow (though still inexcusable) wounds. The Blitzkrieg had left Belgium and especially Netherlands with some terrible looking burns, which Canada every so often nursed. Others were still so weak they could barely walk. Poland was in a wheelchair, his skin almost transparent and he looked thin, near anorexic, after losing almost one-fifth of his population. England turned to glower at Germany again.

"You and your brother have done quite enough. You have done so much unnecessary harm," he hissed.

Germany could feel the rage, the hopelessness and the sadness drip from his very soul as he met those greens. "Like you haven't," he said in a low growl. It had been uttered as a statement, not a question.

England's eyes narrowed at that. "Elaborate," the isle nation commanded.

"Dresden. The three days bombing raid even though the war was practically over. Women and children suffocated or crushed beneath their homes. The bodies exploding in the heat or melted into the pavement. Would you call that necessary harm?" Germany still felt the burning sensation from the wound right beneath his heart.

England visible flinched and avoided Germany's eyes.

Dresden.

No, he had not agreed with that decision and he had been ashamed of his leaders, but like everybody else he had just followed orders. England let out a shaky breath, feeling sick. This war, the suffering, the blood, the hate. Everything. It made him sick. His shoulders lowered and he swayed as he took a step back, making America rush to his side.

"Enough, West."

Everybody snapped their heads towards Prussia, who had been unusual silent until now. Actually, most of them had thought that he would be the one to put up the biggest fight. But throughout the whole meeting he had just been sitting there, hands folded under his chin and eyes looking down. Now, for the first time he was looking up. Crimson eyes that normally held the spirit of a roaring fire had now dimmed to a flickering glow.

"Enough. Just accept it. This is our fate..."

"But brother- "

"No!" Prussia said with the hard voice of a drill sergeant, though the next words were uttered in a much softer tone: "Don't make this any harder. Just...don't. Everything will be fine. Don't worry."

He then smiled.

"Besides, you should praise yourself lucky you ain't the one, who's going to freeze your ass off. Russia is fucking cold - no offence," he added over his shoulder. Russia just shrugged.

Germany felt his last resistance crumble at the sight of that smile, even though he knew how much his brother was hurting on the inside. Prussia tried to take a step forward, but Russia tightened his grip, making his shoulder crack and he felt the whole room tense at his movement.

"Schieße," he cursed and tried to roll his sore shoulder. "Relax. I was just going to console my baby brother here. I'm not trying to run away or some shit."

The Allies shared a look, not moving, unsure of what to do.

"Just let him go for a moment, damn it!" A voice was heard and a brunette made her way through the crowd of bigger nations. Once through, Hungary walked right up to Russia, a tiny limp showing and her bandaged hands fisted to keep them from shaking.

"Please Russia, there is no way he is putting up a fight in that condition. Just let him have this last-" her voice broke. "...moment."

Russia cocked his head like a confused child and seemed to think about the situation for a minute. Then he gave a small nod and retracted his hand to rest on his cane instead.

Prussia gave his childhood friend a small smile.

"Danke," he mouthed and she attempted a small smile in return, but failed, tears forming in her eyes instead. She turned her face before they could fall and let Austria pull her into a consoling hug.

Prussia moved forwards. Germany's eyes had begun to water when his big brother stopped in front of him. "It will be alright, West, I promise." Prussia didn't know if everything would be alright, but he wasn't going to let his brother know that.

A broken sob shook Germany's entire body, shocking everybody but Prussia. Once again the Allies shared glances. It felt wrong to hold on to Germany like this, when he was obviously breaking down. With a small hesitant nod from America, China let go of him. He stumbled forward into Prussia's arms, tears spilling over and soaking the older nations shoulder.

"Don't go. B-bitte. Bitte. Bitte," was heard between the heart wrenching sobs. The other nations turned their heads away, awkward because they had never witnessed the former military superpower like this.

Prussia stroked his brothers hair while he held him closely. "Shh, West. It's alright. I'll never truly leave you. I'm here. Shh. It's all going to be fine, just you wait and see," he said in a low and horse voice, trying to convince Germany as well as himself.

What was going to happen once he went with Russia? What was going to become of his people? What was going to happen to him? When would he see his brother again? Would West be alright? His brain and heart was full of dark scenarios about the future, but none of them did he want to worry Germany with.

They stayed that way until he had to go, Germany crying and begging while Prussia stroked his hair, mumbling reassuring things in his ear.

Then, all too soon, the hand on his shoulder was back, telling him it was time. Prussia nodded to show he understood and peeled Germany from his body before saying:

"Alright, I have to go now," which was received with a small head shaken and even more tears spilling from his younger brothers eyes.

"No. P-please."

"Don't worry, we will meet again," he said with so much conviction that he almost believed it himself and smiled as he ruffled up Germany's hair a bit.

"Stay strong for me, alright? No more crying, it doesn't suit you," Prussia croaked and willed the water in his eyes not to spill over. Germany nodded but still hiccupped when Russia steered his brother away. America and France both put a hand on his shoulders, to keep him from moving after Prussia.

The albino straightened up and held his head high as his hands were cuffed in front of him and he was let out the double doors and into the car that was to take him to Russia's. He didn't turn around, afraid that Germany would see the tears flooding his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. Once in the car he finally let out a broken sob.

For years Germany would cry out for Prussia, knocking and scratching his hands as well as his fingers bloody against the wall physically splitting up his country and separating him from his brother.
For many years the two of them were divided, one physically and mentally chained to Russia, while the other tried to pick up the broken pieces of his country.

All they had left was to dream.

Dreaming what seemed like a hopeless dream that one day that wall would be breached.

A/N:

My brain thought if funny to come up with this sort of story just as I had gone to bed. So to not get any sad nightmares from this, I got up and wrote the whole thing. Didn't go to bed until four in the morning. Anyway, feel free to tell me what you think about it.