"You had no authorisation!" shouted Germany, his face flushed with anger. "You had no right! I'm your country! You can't send me to war without asking me first!"

"We called a meeting and discussed the matter," said one of his generals calmly. "You may represent the country, but we represent its military. Besides, you were the one that agreed to this."

"I agreed to back up Austria and Hungary! I did not agree to attack France! I never mentioned, never even implied, that I wanted you to march on him! Turn this army around right now before... before I..."

"With all due respect, we cannot simply demobilise now. It's too late."

Germany sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. It was still perfectly slicked back despite this nervous habit, but if this day got any worse it'd be sticking up on end before he was done with it. The day had started out fine. Days like this always did. He woke up, he took a shower, he got dressed in his best uniform and ate breakfast. Then he'd stepped outside to see how his army's preparations were going and saw them in the process of marching off over the horizon. Without even bothering to consult him! He didn't know the reason behind this idiocy, but someone was going to be permanently off the Christmas list. He'd stormed up to his generals and shouted at them until he was hoarse, but they were unrepentant. He was ready to fire all of them and take on the job himself, but that power lay with the Kaiser, not him.

Calm down. Deep breaths. Just count to ten very slowly...

"Okay," he said, once he'd managed to suppress the urge to strangle all the officious, warmongering schweinhunds standing in front of him with their own bootlaces. "Would any of you mind telling me - please - why you decided to march on France?"

"It's all part of the plan," piped up one of them, looking pleased with himself. "You reviewed and approved it, remember?"

"What? What plan?" He had no memory of any plan. They'd made this plan in that meeting they hadn't invited him to - mental note: when this is all over, call your own meeting and don't invite them, see how they like it - and now he was risking a war because of them! They were making this up. He was absolutely one hundred percent sure that he had never made any kind of-

"The Schlieffen Plan, remember?"

Oh. That plan.

"We're just following it, sir, like you told us to. France is allied with Russia. If Russia starts to mobilise, we take out France quickly and swing back to the east to fight the Russians. They've started mobilising, so we're attacking France."

Germany's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. They were right, of course. He remembered the Schlieffen Plan; it had seemed like a great idea at the time. Russia took far longer to mobilise than him or France, so a pre-emptive strike could be made before having to face him at full strength. But now they were actually executing it... it seemed different somehow. It had made perfect sense on paper, when he'd been reading it and imagining a situation with Russia declaring war and having to fight for his homeland, but now?

"But Russia's not even attacking us! He's defending Serbia from Austria and Hungary! We can't invade France over something like that!"

"We certainly can. We've agreed to help Austria and Hungary so that means at least some of Russia's forces will be directed against us. France is Russia's ally, so he'll be attacking us as well. That's a war on two fronts. We're strong, but we might not be able to survive that much. If we take him out early then we can deal with Russia on one front."

That... actually made sense. When you looked at it that way, they were bound to get into a war with France sooner or later. Knocking him out of the game before he could do any serious damage was surely a good idea, right? But still... something about this plan didn't feel right.

"Are you sure?" he asked, feeling a little helpless. His army was on the move whether he liked it or not; he was either behind it or he wasn't. "War? Really?"

"It's the best thing in the long run. Minimal casualties. The war'll be over in weeks. It'll be better for France as well; save us both a long, gruelling campaign."

Germany sighed and stared out at his marching army. They believed in their cause utterly, truly and completely - he could see it in their set faces, their determined eyes. He was supposed to be their country, wasn't he? Their guardian and protector. If he wasn't with them then who would be?

"Fine," he said. "Fine. You've convinced me, alright? Let's just get this over with."

A little while later, Germany found himself realising how much he'd missed marching. There was something about it that gave him pride, that made him even more patriotic and determined than he usually was. It wasn't a long journey, but travelling through the countryside with his army was a nice feeling. As long as he didn't think too much about the destination, he could really enjoy it. His generals reminded him of the specifics of the Schlieffen Plan as they marched; the border he and France shared was too heavily fortified so they were heading for Belgium instead. They didn't even necessarily have to invade her - if he just asked politely to be allowed to move through her land he was sure she could be persuaded.

They found her at her front gate, staring at them with shocked and suspicious eyes. She was wearing her military uniform instead of her casual clothes. A lot of countries had started doing that lately. War was in the air; even those who thought they wouldn't be involved could feel it.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked as soon as he was in earshot.

"Good morning to you too."

"Your entire army? Really?" Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "This isn't an invasion, is it?"

"Of course not!" He took a step forward, trying to look as friendly as he could. It didn't come naturally to him. He thought about attempting a warm smile, but that was just as likely to backfire and scare the hell out of her than it was to soften her up. "We're just... on our way to visit France's house."

"So it is an invasion, then."

He sighed; she always had been a sharp one. "Kind of. A bit. Maybe. Okay, yes. It is. But it's France we're after, not you. You don't need to be involved at all unless you get in our way. I promise we'll leave you out of this if you just step aside and let us pass."

"I'm neutral," she said, folding her arms and raising her chin in defiance, "and I intend to stay that way. Use your own border."

"But he'll be expecting that, won't he?" Germany was getting a bit impatient now - he'd never been good at persuasion. All she needed to do was stand aside and this could all be over and done with. "Just let us through, Belgium. Come on. We won't raze or pillage or anything, I swear."

She stepped in front of her gate and stood firm, blocking the way. "No! You think you can just show up here with all your little soldiers in tow and expect everyone to do whatever you want? Either use your own border or stay at home and learn some manners!"

"I won't ask you again. I don't want to invade but I will if you force me. Last chance: let us through or we'll come on our own terms, and I can't promise that'll be pretty."

He stared her straight in the eyes, trying to intimidate her into backing down, but she stared straight back without dropping her gaze. He had to hand it to her, she was a plucky little nation. At least a foot smaller than him with much less land and a much smaller army, but here she was, refusing to give in. He almost regretted what he would have to do to her if she kept standing in his way.

"I am a country, not a road, dikke nek!"

Germany sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He was not going to enjoy this.

He stepped forwards and, before she could do anything but gape at him, lifted her up and hoisted her over his shoulder. But Belgium was not going down without a fight. She kicked out and caught him right in the stomach with her boot. He doubled over, winded, and she struggled free from his grasp. The sound of loading guns rang out from behind him; he raised an arm to tell him to hold their fire and left himself open for another punch, this time to the face.

This was ridiculous. She was tiny compared to him; she really didn't have a chance. He swallowed the pain and straightened up just in time to catch a kick she was aiming at his gut. She gave an indignant shriek as he twisted it, knocking her off balance and sending her crashing to the floor. Without missing a beat, he dropped to the ground and pinned her in position. She struggled hard, kicking and thrashing like her life depended on it, but he was far stronger than her.

Within minutes, Belgium was bound securely at the wrists, arms and ankles. She could move no better than a beached whale and clearly did not appreciate it. She screamed insults at them as they tied her up - Germany had put his foot down when a general had suggested just shooting her and being done with it - alternating between French and Dutch, her face red from shouting. He couldn't understand either of them but he thought he could make a pretty good guess as to their meanings.

"Gag her," he said to one of his generals. "She'll attract the attention of everyone in Europe making a racket like that."

And so they marched through Belgium's house, kicking down the front and back doors and funnelling the entire army through the hallway, while she lay in the bushes and watched helplessly. If looks could kill, Germany thought, his entire empire would've been burned to the ground in moments by her eyes alone.

Next stop, France.

The first chapter that didn't include Austria and Hungary; it's Germany and Belgium's turn in the limelight now. Please leave a review if you liked it, disliked it or just have something to say! ^_^

EDIT: Thank you to an anonymous reviewer for pointing out my slip-up. Russia wasn't Soviet until 1917, i.e. after the beginning of the war. Sorry about that!