This part seems off, just like the last one. ON THE BRIGHT SIDE: finally, I am DONE with the prologue! The first chapter is after this one! I'M EXCITED. I apologise for the shortness of this chapter. To compensate, I can certainly say that I'm almost done with the first chapter, which is where the plot FINALLY begins to roll. Sort of. Maybe. I don't know 'cause I'm not done, but the REAL story begins!
Adrenaline Rush
Prologue: A Rare Occurrence (very, very early 1400's)
"Clearly," Francis said contemptuously with a scowl to match, "your taste in wine has not improved since we last met." His sharp words were directed at Gilbert, of course, and Spain could not help but agree. The brunette supposed that the wine Prussia had selected had the potential to be good, if only... Nada. There was no way the albino could have even come remotely close to a quality wine. Spain shook his head, at a complete loss for words.
They were seated at a small iron table. It had been painted white, though it was beginning to peel and rust. The designs were quite elegant and Spain took a liking to that particular table, despite its apparent age. He did not look forward to standing. As it was, he had no luck. Spain had predicted that Francis would not like the wine, and as a precaution, had brought some of from his home. He walked to the mansion's back door, over a rather large threshold, through the dirt-floored cooking area, up a few steps, and into the house's back corridor. He passed the door to the dining room and Gilbert's study, and kept moving until he found the stairs. From there, the Spaniard turned and strayed down the previous hallway's counterpart. Just beyond Ludwig's quarters were his own and France's. Spain trotted to the farther one and began searching for the bottle of red wine.
He brought the wine out to France and had to say that he regretted to see it go so quickly. It was good wine - not too strong, not too subtle, with a rich, velvety feel. There was a comfortable silence amongst the three, one that indicated nothing needed to be said. Spain felt the impulse to make small talk, however, and soon broke it with an inquiry.
"How has that horse I provided you with been doing? The stallion?" Spain asked of the albino. He appeared to be mildly surprised, as if he had not expected it.
"Very well. He is quite the amazing horse. I primarily used him for pulling my carriage, however, one of my," Prussia hesitated briefly, which was unusual for him, to say the least, "subordinates has begun to ride him. He has been a valuable asset to my stables." Spain nodded absently, before pouring himself the last of the wine. The chitchat had eventually evolved into of a discussion of the war - there had been small brushes and scrimmages along the borders, though nothing serious had happened. Spain did not take part in the debate and did not truly care, per se.
The summer passed uneventfully, as Prussia thought it would, but there was an undeniably thick tension hanging in the hot, humid air. Both armies - Poland and Lithuania, Spain, Prussia, and France - were wary. One would eventually have to make a move.
And at last, one did.
Prussia felt as if he was being suffocated. There was nothing but black all around him, pressing in from every side, enveloping him in heat and perspiration from his own body. His throat was dry; he needed water. Three, two, one more step until he reached it...
His ruby eyes opened in a flash. It had merely been a nightmare. Prussia shoved the blankets off, swung his feet of the side of his bed, and inhaled deeply. The air caused him to choke and tears stung his eyes. He looked up to see black surrounding him, as if his dream had come to the waking world. He leapt up, immediate realisation making him panic, though he'd been expecting this for some time now.
Poland and Lithuania attacked first. It had been cleverly planned; Spain and France were both there. Prussia dashed down the stairs to where Spain and France were staying.
"Germany has escaped already," France sputtered, stumbling out of the younger boy's room. Spain had crawled out of his room to join them. Prussia met his eyes and knew that the nations would find their own way out. Spain nodded, knowing Prussia's thoughts and intentions.
"Find them," he commanded. Prussia turned on the spot and darted up the stairs in pursuit of Adrian, Amanda, and Allison.
The albino dropped to his knees when he reached the second story of the house. Ever so slowly, he crawled down the first hall and began on the second when his knee fell through a loose floorboard. He was unharmed, though he found something he'd forgotten in the midst of the disaster. From the hole, he pulled a satchel filled with old clothes that he had grown out of centuries ago, daggers, and maps. Bag in hand, he continued his treacherous crawl through the corridor.
The first door was already open.
"Allison!" Prussia choked, pulling himself up using her bedside table.
"P-Prussia? I'm scared!" She was as terrified as she'd been during her first morning in the house.
"Get Amanda and wait in front of her door!" Gilbert ordered, grabbing her nightgown by the shoulder and pulling her off the bed. After seeing her begin to wriggle through the smoke to Amanda's room, he searched for Adrian. That proved to be no problem for him. She sat outside of her room, coughing from her struggle to breathe. After getting nearer, Prussia saw that she was crying, though her tears evaporated in the heat before they hit the floor.
"Adrian!" he bellowed harshly, "pull yourself together! Take this," he shoved the bag toward her, "and get Amanda and Allison out of here! Go back to where ever you all came from!"
"But, I'm afraid," she bawled, seeming more frustrated and pained than ever.
"When has that stopped you? Just go, you fool!" She still looked fearful, like she was a child about to experience all the world's harshness and terror in one night. With a start, Prussia realised that was exactly what she was.
"Take this," he muttered in a more gentle tone. He took of his iron cross - the symbol of the Teutonic Knights - and gave it to her.
"B-but your-"
"I have another, " he said with a soft bluntness. Her blue eyes stared into his one ruby ones for the last time.
"We won't ever meet again." It was a statement, not a question.
"I know," Prussia agreed in a rueful whisper. "Take them and go. Now!" He turned and left without seeing if she had obeyed him or not.
One last time, he traveled across the hall, down the stairs, through the kitchen, to the back door, where he and the children first arrived, seemingly so long ago.
When he stumbled outside, he was greeted with an inquiry from all who had made it out alive, but one question stood out.
"Did you get them?" Spain asked out of pure concern for the little nations.
"They were dead before I found them," Prussia replied in a monotone, flat voice. And in a way, his answer was truthful. He had turned his back on them before he could be sure that they had escaped. And even if they did, how would they survive the sea of obstacles that would greet them as three small, weak, independent countries?
Translations:
Nada (Spanish) - nothing
What do you think? Excited for chapter one? Also, this is the FINAL part of the PROLOGUE. Thanks for reading!
SIDE NOTE/HISTORY LESSON: this is an ALLIANCE of Poland and Lithuania, not the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. The commonwealth was later in history. The prologue takes place around 1407-ish.
Yours truly, Rat Jam
