Author's note: My interest in the personification of Prussia increased after viewing related, well-made fanarts. This character is quite inspiring to me, especially as seen through a historical perspective. I also enjoyed his depiction in HetaOni series and after watching it, Gilbert managed to climb high on my list of favourite APH characters.

RusPrus pairing grew on me as well, but it's not their rivalrous interaction that led me to this liking. It's the complexity of each character and how a past full of battles clearly affected their identity.

This fanfic is dedicated to my friend Pilar.

Embrace of Mnemosyne

As time passes, unhindered and unstoppable by any influence, I become more and more convinced that the past is not going to return. It doesn't matter how much I crave for it. I can only relive it through old paintings, withered colours of seemingly unimportant artifacts and fleeting scents. Sometimes, even a paragraph from a book that dwelled in the dust of a derelict shelf or passages in a well-written symphony in minor scale, can bring lively recollections to my consciousness.

Right. Memory can be intensely painful, so much that it feels like a powerful hand choking me without mercy, ready to haunt some lonely hours of my present. But I cannot live, I cannot conceive of myself without the past and everything in it that shaped my being. The journals I have kept with unwavering dedication since the eras of glory and fall, know this truth well. If I attempted to break the connection to my old existence, I would lose the wholeness of my identity.

I often said that I refuse to compromise with any term or condition that limits the greatness of the life I dreamt of. My body and nous remained true to this resolution for the most part, tested through many gruelling battles, but as I look back, it's clear in my eyes that my distinctive identity transmuted into that of my younger brother. I allowed Ludwig to cast his influence onto me, as a maker does with their pottery clay, giving me the form and colours that emanated from his own soul. I don't hate him for it. If I were stronger and more insightful, things would have been different.

At times, I felt like a paper boat on a raging sea, waiting for the enormous waves to calm as I struggled against them, or to be led to a tranquil shore where I could rest, even for a while... Because the world never stops moving and war is its primal truth, the eternal pact that shapes destiny and history through a circle of creation and destruction.

Whenever my soul feels like a lost, shredded rag, I secretly curl close to my Prussian banner, comforting my pain or worry with its artistic beauty and proud delineation. Sometimes I wrap the flag around me like a precious cape and then I am sure that I haven't really turned my back on what I was meant to be.

Ludwig probably doesn't know this, nor suspects it. He must think that we feel exactly the same when we gaze at our common flag, the one with the coloured stripes... But I see it differently. These colours describe mainly him. And then me. I thought this would change with the passage of years, but I was wrong. We are not the same person. Of course there is unity and concord between us. But there's something more that lies in me...

A sense of uniqueness.

I wonder if Ivan remembers me as I used to be. Or does he recognise me only as East Germany, especially after the time we spent together? No, he must recall me as Prussia, I have heard him mentioning the name several times, even after the end of the second World War when I was forced to be his ally. There should be at least one small trace of my old self stored into his memory. It has to be.

If he knows the obscure depth of my existence, then he is capable of understanding. I want him to see the entire truth in me. Normally, I shouldn't have such an intense desire. But my heart is disobedient, for it loves him.

There is something equally alluring and frightful in the sense of love. After a certain time, it is impossible to deny the feeling or deceit yourself forever. Love is like a challenger that knows all my weak points. Escape can only be temporary and not effective, while the sensation of defeat paradoxically turns into a feel of triumph. A fulfilment that easily, uncontrollably and unexpectedly changes from total bliss to absolute misery. And vice versa.

My love for Ivan has incited me to surpass many of my inward limits. The feeling was often tiring and torturing especially since it was mixed with fiery rage. I couldn't view it positively for a long time and I didn't want to admit it was true. These endless, conflicting moments only helped to cloud my judgement and confuse me in a way that I never experienced before.

No one among the people closest to me could ever accept this love as it is. My own emotions cannot breath freely. It's the secret I hide from my brother and my few friends, regardless if I know that they could give their life for me... Perhaps, they would no longer care or take me seriously if they learnt the truth or if they found out that I am still faithful in my roots and long forgotten heritage.

I know, with a certainty barren of practical proof, that Ivan wouldn't judge me for this. Even if he rejected me, I am sure he wouldn't mock me. Because I feel that he's still the only one who can perceive all the layers of my essence. I wouldn't be surprised if he told me that he knows I am in love with him.

If I discerned clear signs of mutuality in this passion, I would be brave enough to defend ourselves and the bond that would keep us together. Convenient safety in any form wouldn't mean anything to me. Direct conflict is a better option as long as it is impelled by strong, heartfelt motives. The way I feel for my former companion is so tragic and wonderful at the same time, that a disturbance in the quietude of our Houses would be a worthy sacrifice.

I don't lie to myself any longer.

This persistent, unrivaled love has claimed its rightful entering into the core of my being. It knocked on the locked door of my mind for years, waiting at the threshold until the day I would decide to become a little braver than I am. The realisation is overwhelming but somehow the fears have quietened. It must be because I know that deep down I am not doing anything wrong.

There are times when I feel worried, but this alone is not enough to stop me from my decision. If I show him that I am here, he will see me. If I can touch his heart, he won't pretend that he didn't feel anything. Because this man is too fearless when it comes to admitting his emotions.

How can I make you love me, Ivan? No planning in advance will really help me this time. I am not looking for trenches and high fortifications. Those who hide cannot act and thus I want to be at the forefront of all my efforts. That is the right and fair thing to do, for both of us.

No, I am not seeking an escape or a diversion from my beloved past... I hope to have a similarly interesting present and live it to the utmost. I shouldn't turn my back on it before I give it a good chance.

I welcome what I feel and this hope I have is like the first light of the morning that carefully caresses my eyelids.

Even the most gallant eagle has a warm place that he calls it home. His nest. But even if I find that Ivan, my preceding adversary and former ally, is not meant to be the nest of my heart, I will have to fly away. Because freedom - and that of the person I love with all my strength - is the most significant trait in an eagle's life as he always searches for the highest point he can reach...

XxX

Notes: Mnemosyne is the deification of memory in Greek mythology.

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