Warning: Possible triggers. Reference made to war crimes.
A Matter of Time
By: Dr. Cultural Studies
Chapter Eleven: Mistake
For the sake of historical truth, I must verify that only the Greeks, of all the adversaries who confronted us, fought with bold courage and highest disregard of death. – Adolf Hitler, 1941
In my dreams of home (be them of my homes in Kansas City, Nashville, or New York City), I was always surrounded by family. My mother was always there along with my sister and brother. Sometimes, my biker grandfather would show up. I got to hold my newborn baby niece. They'd named her after me—Michelle Rosa Reynolds. My sister would prattle on and on about her husband and how much she missed me. My brother would watch football with America and New York, arguing about the various plays and battling rather dramatically over my cheese dip recipe. Somehow, America and New York became entwined in my immediate family, even in my unconscious mind. This fact didn't bother me a bit. They were my family. Now, anyway.
Mom—in my dreams—would always coddle the Nation and State. She'd make burgers galore for the elder of the two while he went into theatrics about how 'FREAKIN' AWESOME' her cooking was. She'd give him extra cheese, just to see him smile a little wider.
Meanwhile, she'd talk to New York about anything and everything. Because he could accept just about anyone. It was his nature. They'd talk about everything from fashion to cuisine, from politics to culture. And I would just sit and watch. Sometimes, George would join me and we'd smile at their interactions.
After a few hours of partying, Britain would show up with a petulant frown. Arthur would stride right up to me, cross his arms, and stamp his foot like a child. He'd declare that he didn't need my help, that I had no right to send him all those letters. Then, he would relent and sit on the couch at my side, watching as the others loudly argued. He would offer no other words. We'd just sit there.
In the waking world, I wondered if he had noticed the lack of letters arriving.
My dreams were comforting, like a security blanket, but they didn't rid me of the harsh reality of my situation.
And what a perilous situation I was in!
Compared to most prisoners of war (and I was well-aware that this was my position), I was blessed and lucky. Austria—Roderich, as was his human name— was insistent on keeping me well-fed, well-clothed, and comfortable. It was a rebellious side, I think. I knew Germany didn't appreciate Roderich's stubbornness where I was concerned.
"She cannot wear this for the remainder of her stay here!" There was a grand gesture in my direction and I felt myself stiffen at the movement. Attention was never a good thing in Germany's presence. Blue eyes shifted over to me and, like I had noticed before, there was a flash of guilt in them before it was shuttered out by his lids. He raised his right hand and pinched the bridge of his nose.
After a moment, he sighed. "She's a prisoner. Not a guest. You know this, Roderich."
"Of that I am aware. However, you are using my estate for your—purposes. The least you could do would be to humor me." There was an upward snark to his tone, but his posture was still extremely respectful.
"Humor you? What? Your house is my house. In fact, you sold it to me. I can do whatever the hell I want." I jerked at the reference to the fact that most Austrians in 1938 voted to join with Germany. Was that an exaggeration by the Nazi party or did that actually happen? If his retort was anything to go by..."If I wanted her to be imprisoned naked, I could!"
Austria's jaw dropped. I sucked in a surprised breath, eyes going wide. In that moment, I saw Germany. Not the warring Nation, but the person underneath all that. His eyes went wide and he almost seemed to squeak. His gaze swiveled over to me and I instinctually pulled my arms around my chest. The green nightgown was far less than I wanted to be wearing after a statement like that.
"Nein! No! I—What I meant was—" His face went red. "Forget it! Get the girl some decent clothes. Do so quickly. I don't care!" He took one final look at me and I once again saw a flash of emotion. Embarrassment. "I would never—"
"I know," I responded. Germany only paused for a moment before rushing out of the room. The undertone of the whole conversation was worrisome, but I knew better. Although German soldiers could get out of control and sometimes did get out of control, I knew that Germany would never—never do something—like that.
"You do not have to worry about…such a thing." Austria comforted. I glanced up to see him looking far more serious than I had ever seen him. And I completely believed him. I knew that none of them would do such a thing. That was the least of my concerns. "I'll have Elizabeta bring you some decent clothes. You best be prepared. Ludwig will do something soon that I do not believe you will enjoy."
"Will I live through it?"
Austria stopped on his way out the door and turned back. "If you're strong enough, you can live through anything he throws at you. Choose your battles wisely and you might just survive your time here."
Then, Austria was gone.
I noticed his absence when shadows stopped passing underneath the door. He would pace there for hours, keeping guard. Like a ghost, the Nation disappeared. I knew—after hours of ponderous thought—that he had been taken to Germany's house. Where he would be easier to control. Where he wouldn't aid the "ignorant" human prisoner.
For the most part, I was kept in isolation. I wasn't allowed out of that bedroom. Food trickled down to nothing (a tactic I was certain Germany was using as a form of persuasion). And with Austria gone, there was no one actively arguing for my care. Germany was intent on cracking my will through hunger.
This was somewhat thwarted by Hungary, who would bring me bread and water whenever Ludwig was out on business. She would stay for a few moments, filling me in on certain world events, before stepping out again. I would hide the extra bits of food in the lower right hand drawer of the vanity.
My hunger was so terrible.
It was maddening.
At first, I could handle it. I could force my way through the pain in my stomach. After some time though, ten days or so, I could see myself starting to waste away. It was a no-win situation. I didn't have the energy to exercise and it was growing painfully worse as time drew on. Days turned into weeks. Each day longer than the last.
It wasn't as if I didn't try to escape.
I did. Numerous times. Each with the same result.
I sat in silence, glaring at my folded hands. Hungary had come a few hours after dawn, leaving me a bit of bread and a special treat of tea rather than water. She was getting more and more blatant in her disregard for Germany's orders. At times, it was amusing. Hungary—Elizabeta—was a very stubborn and very steel-willed woman. Her antics at slipping me food likely did not go unnoticed, but there was very little Germany could do to discipline her. She was a part of his Alliance. For all that he likely wanted to strangle the woman at times, he needed her for strategic purposes.
The tea had given me a boost, some foolhardy confidence. Somewhere in my mind, I could hear Britain's voice declaring that he would never fall to Germany's attacks. I wondered if he realized that the letters had stopped. I wondered if I was missed by Alfred or Johnny. I wondered if Delaware was alright.
Looking up from my hands, I wondered if there was a way out of this mess.
My gaze skittered around the room until they settled on the one flaw in my prison.
Smirking to myself, I looked over to where tin can rested on the dressing table. My smirk became a blatant smile. Standing a little unsteadily, I walked over and pulled the can lid off, eyeing the lip of the can for a few moments before glancing toward the door.
It could work.
The screws in the door hinge were polished to perfection, clearly something of Austria's tastes. I used the edge of the can to loosen the screws on the hinges until the door itself was loose from the wall. My heart thudded in my chest as I stepped uneasily out into the hallway.
"You are clever," a voice said with a note of praise. I stopped and glanced over my shoulder to where Hungary was standing. He arms were crossed, but there was a smile on her face. She was very clearly amused with my attempt. "I wondered how long it would take before you figured that one out. Breaking the glass a week ago was risky, too."
"Just my luck," I groused at the sight of her and sighed. "I assume you're going to make me go back inside."
"I will suggest it, but I will not force you." Hungary shifted and glanced behind herself. "You have perhaps five minutes before Ludwig will come down this hallway to speak with you. If you feel you can escape in that time, then do so."
I studied her for a long moment before shaking my head. There was no sense in risking immediate death when it wasn't possible to escape.
Foolhardy just wasn't in my nature.
Instead, I turned and reentered my room willingly. I replaced the screws and secured the door just minutes before Germany arrived for questioning. I refused again, but I got some amusement out of watching Hungary keep her laughter in check. She never mentioned my escape attempt and I never brought it up again.
Three weeks passed by in this fashion. After those three weeks, Germany had become distracted by the upcoming implementation of Operation Barbarossa—which was the systematic invasion of the Soviet Union. It was coming soon and I knew that I had been imprisoned for nearly a month, though I didn't quite know the exact date. Left in near isolation for a month. It was only the knowledge that his insane operation was going to end in failure that kept me going.
Attacking Russia? That's stupid on the best of terms.
Attacking Russia without winter gear? That's just plain idiotic.
I wasn't about to tell Germany that though.
It wasn't until late-June that I was allowed out. By that point, I could barely walk. My legs were weak and my body was slowly collapsing in on itself. Even so, after a month of captivity, I was glad to stretch my legs beyond the threshold of my room.
That's when I met Greece.
He was sitting in the parlor when Hungary guided me into the room. Her hand was gentle on my back and her other hand was supportively holding my arm. Although I had been fed (by Hungary's mercy alone), I had lost quite a bit of weight. Bread, the occasional soup, and water. My muscles were weak and I was slowly becoming sick.
It was something about captivity, I think, though I couldn't quite say for sure. I wasn't dying, but I was certainly not well.
"He's here to see Ludwig," Elizabeta commented with her lightly accented lilt. Carefully, she settled me into a chair by the window. The sun felt warm on my face. A blanket was lowered onto my lap and she stepped away, crossing her arms. "Wake up, Heracles. This is the girl you've heard about."
"Mm," the sleeping Nation hummed. His eyes eased open and he turned to face me, still curled in the chair. He blinked, "Nice to meet you." Strangely enough, he actually sounded a little different from Vic Mignonga. His voice was a bit heavier, if that were possible. A bit more…serious. Maybe this was due to the current state of things in Europe. And his occupation.
"Same here. Nice to meet you," I murmured in response. He was exactly as he was portrayed in the anime though. Every bit the tired, lethargic Nation. Sighing, I ran a hand through my now-short hair. I caught Hungary's eye and she grimaced. I knew what she was thinking of and I couldn't help but to flinch at the memory.
It wasn't Germany this time. No, he was too preoccupied with the death of Kaiser William II. The last German Emperor.
When the man had died, it was during a session of my questioning. Mid-way through a threat, he froze. I thought for a moment that Germany was having a heart attack. His eyes had gone wide and pain seemed evident on his face. When he began to collapse, I caught him on instinct alone. Frankly, I didn't want to be helpful in any way. So, when I realized what I had done, I let him fall to the floor in a heap. I stared for a few moments before running to the door.
This time, though, it wasn't Germany that had come to persuade me.
It was Japan.
He stared at me without emotion. "Mr. Ludwig has ordered that your hair be cut."
My mouth opened and then snapped shut again. Elizabeta, however, was on her feet in a matter of seconds. "What?" She stormed over to where Japan was standing with his hands folded behind his back. "What was that, Honda?"
"Her hair is to be cut."
I knew what this was. A method of dehumanizing me. In the war, the prisoners at concentration camps were often rent of their hair. Women and men alike. It was a means of keeping lice down while also being extremely profitable. Germans used the harvested hair to stuff beds and upholstered furniture. To insulate tanks and the like.
And now…Germany wanted my hair cut as well.
My hand reached up to pull at the locks. It was still the color of dirty dishwater like it had always been. Nothing remarkable.
I had never been overly attached to my hair. Even so, the thought of it being taken from me against my will was something I couldn't stand.
Everything else had been taken away. Now, my hair as well.
Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I held them back. No, I would be strong.
Just hair. It's just hair.
I tilted my head back to keep the offending show of emotion from falling down my cheeks.
"That is," Kiku murmured, "unless you decide to talk." He shifted and looked over to me. "None of this would happen if you would just give up."
He wanted so badly for me to just hand over the information. He didn't want to take my hair any more than I wanted him to. Still, his ally had requested this action be done. So he would complete the task at all costs.
"Tell us something."
My gaze flickered over to where Hungary was standing. Her wide eyes gazed at me, willing me to give them anything, so that this wouldn't be taken away. So that I didn't have to endure this sort of hardship. A sort of womanly pride in her hair—that's what Elizabeta had. I looked away from her imploring eyes and studied my hair again.
What could I do?
Irritation welled up in me. Germany was taking this to another level. Near-isolation and near-starvation weren't working so he was trying another form of psychological torment.
Taking away my hair somehow equalized with taking away my humanity.
Well, then.
Slowly, I stood up. The action was labored. I was growing weaker by the day. "Elizabeta." She stepped forward, a questioning glint in her eyes. "Could you please cut my hair? I feel like it's getting in the way. Besides, who am I trying to impress with such long hair anyway?" Feeling distinctly smug, I turned to Japan. "You can tell Ludwig that I thank him for his thoughtfulness. It really wasn't prudent to keep my hair this long anymore."
After a moment of stunned silence, Hungary barked a laugh before covering her mouth with her hand.
Kiku studied me. "You are choosing to cut your hair?"
"Why not?" I shrugged as if it were nothing. On the inside, I really just wanted to cry. How had all those women felt when their hair was forcefully cut from them? Hair that they had grown out for years so that they could achieve a perfect bun. Hair that was always complemented. That they took great pride in? It was sickening.
I wasn't going to let Germany get the upper hand. Not like this. I wasn't going to be dehumanized. I'd take that opportunity away from him. "I look good with short hair."
Turning on his heel, Japan quickly walked to the door. He paused momentarily to turn back and stare at me. I looked defiantly back at him. My head was level. No tears were threatening my eyes now. There was a flicker of something in his face before he merely nodded. "I shall tell him." With that, he was gone.
"You're insane," Hungary laughed. It was strained and crazed, but it was a laugh. "You're insane, Michelle."
"Yeah, probably." I sighed and pressed a hand to my head. "Probably."
Greece was watching me for a few seconds before his eyelids began to droop again. I snorted lightly and gave a go-ahead gesture. "You should probably get some more sleep before Ludwig arrives. Lord knows there won't be much rest when he gets here. The man likes to yell."
This seemed to catch the Nation's attention and he sat up a bit straighter. His green eyes narrowed just a bit before he yawned, covering his mouth with his hand. "You say that like…you know."
Hungary stepped forward, coming to my aid immediately. I was grateful for it, too. Of all the Nations I had encountered while imprisoned with the Axis powers, Hungary was the closest I could get to a friend. Her motherly side had taken over in regards to my welfare. It was something that earned my respect. And somehow I had earned hers. Most likely because I was sticking one to Germany. "She's had to endure…some terrible things."
"What kinds of terrible things?" The air around Greece seemed to shift and his demeanor became less sluggish.
Ah, so it appeared that this one had a mask as well. With America, it was his idiocy. With Italy, it was his innocence. With Greece, was it his indolence? With each new Nation I met, my theory was proven correct.
"Would such things go against the 'honor' that Germany so often speaks of?"
In a matter-of-fact tone, forcing myself to become detached, I answered his question. "Nothing so terrible as rape, if that's what you're thinking. I don't think that Ludwig is capable of that kind of atrocity, despite what many might believe. No, he isn't. He—nor any of his subordinates—have ever laid a lewd hand upon me. Nor do I think that they would. Even so, that doesn't hold barred any other type of torture employed."
"Torture?" Greece wondered. "You are merely a young woman. Why?"
"You know already, don't you? Why bother asking?"
The air in the room seemed to crackle with tension. Greece stared at me with seeming emotionless eyes. I could feel it though. The old Nation was pissed. A flash of self-righteous justice swelled up in me. "What sort," he muttered quietly, "What sort of torture have you been subjected to, young one?"
No question about my knowledge?
Okay.
That was a nice change.
"Near complete isolation for weeks with limited food and water." Hungary answered for me. "Her hair was cut as well. Though…" She trailed off and smirked slightly at the memory. "She has been imprisoned since the first of June. You do the math."
If Hungary and Austria (whenever he was at his home rather than Germany's) hadn't snuck me bits of bread and water, I might not have survived.
When I came out, Germany really couldn't understand why I didn't break under his questioning.
Well, it was simple enough to figure out.
I had decided to take my knowledge to the grave. There wasn't a chance in hell I would give him anything. If anyone, it would go to America—for the simple fact that he had never actually asked it of me. And it didn't look likely that I would ever see him again. So to the grave with my knowledge I went. As my fat was whittled down to nothing and I became a scarecrow of my former self, I saw America getting father and farther from my reach.
Home was barely a speck on the horizon.
Actually, I couldn't even see a horizon. There was no end in sight.
"Oh…" Greece sighed, lifting a hand to rest on his forehead. "I see." His eyes slid shut and I was convinced that the man had fallen asleep again.
My gaze moved to where Elizabeta was standing by the window, her back to us. I watched the tenseness in her shoulders for a few moments before speaking. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"
She turned and nodded, "I am fine. I'm not the one that you should be worrying about."
The beats of my heart began to pound faster, signaling my fear. Although I could remain generally in control of my fear and nerves in front of Germany, Italy, and Japan, I couldn't keep that same sort of composure with Hungary. She never pressed me for knowledge, beyond wanting to help, and she seemed to know that I wouldn't give her anything. Perhaps female intuition?
Really, we both knew she'd been ordered to become close to me. At least, that was what I suspected and she wasn't dense. They wanted me to trust her enough that I would answer her questions.
Funny thing: I think they placed a bit too much trust in Hungary.
Moral of the story: Hungary does what she wants. Nazi rule be damned.
That would very much be the truth later in the war, when she would send envoys to the Allies in hopes of turning on the Nazi regime. It would ultimately backfire, but she did it anyway.
"Alfred? Johnny?" My voice was strained, but controlled.
Her head shook, "I believe that you are in for a rough day, Michelle. The German and Italian consulates in the United States have been officially ordered to close. Furthermore, all German and Italian assets in America have been frozen."
Ah, so it was that time.
America must have finally won that argument with New York. It was better than exile and government-sanctioned discrimination at the very least, but it was still an affront to everything Johnny stood for. I could only imagine the falling out the two had over this. Johnny would flip his lid when the gathering of Japanese citizens would occur after Pearl Harbor.
When she saw my expression, she stilled. "You already knew."
"It was only a matter of time," I replied. "Operation Barbarossa started not too long ago or it's about to start, right?"
She nodded, still somewhat amazed by my foresight. "Two days ago. How did you know?"
I could finally pinpoint the date. June 24, 1941.
A sigh of relief rushed through me. It was nice to know the exact date again. For the past month, I had tried my best to figure out the actual date. Part of my torment was being unaware. Hungary told me some world events, but barely enough to figure an exact date of it. Thoughts swirled in my mind and I acknowledged Elizabeta's confused look.
"One of the largest military campaigns in history," I shrugged. "Germany intends to invade the Soviet Union. With the help of Romania and Finland at the moment. Since Finland is neutral and has acquiesced to the German deployment from their borders." She appeared a little stunned at how much I knew about the tactical posturing.
Shivering a bit, I tried to wrangle in my fraying nerves. We had already come to this point. It was one of the major things I listed in my letter. If Alfred or Johnny received it and made use of the information, then they would know to inform Russia of the impending attack, right? Would America bother, considering his rivalry with Ivan?
Curiosity got the better of me. If they had gotten the letter then—"What happened at Halfaya Pass?"
Elizabeta sighed, shaking her head. Slowly, she moved to sit in the plush chair beside my own. Her head drooped forward. Though she was opposed to Nazi rule, she was competitive by nature. She couldn't stand losing. "Britain won the engagement. It was a surprise attack. Destroyed the forces there with little actual effort."
My reaction was measured and calm, knowing I couldn't give anyway that I had informed the Allies of anything.
I couldn't give any sign that there was something amiss.
A shaky 'oh' escaped my lips before I settled into silence.
They'd done it.
There was no telling what the repercussions would be of this one changed event. Perhaps the war would end differently or a little sooner? Maybe fewer men died during that battle than had lost their lives before? Fear lurched through my stomach along with a good dose of pride.
They did it!
Arthur had used that information and brought about a victory. Even if I knew that the Allied forces still hadn't gained control over Libya or even truly secured Egypt…At least they survived Hellfire. What had once been a devastating loss was now a victory.
It worked.
It worked!
What could possibly happen now?
What would change?
"Better late than never," I muttered to myself. They used that information to affect change. To save some lives.
The man across from me twitched at my words. My eyes flickered over to where Greece had been sleeping, but his eyes were wide open and he was staring at me. "What…was that?"
"Better late than never."
Oh.
Oh.
That was what Athena had told me while I was unconscious a few weeks ago. She said it was the phrase her son lived by. It hadn't been my intention to gain Greece's attention like that, not with memories of his mother. My eyes looked away, but I could still feel his gaze upon me.
"Ah, Herr Heracles. It is about time you showed up. You're late."
Like a rolling cloud of thunder, Germany strode into the sunlit parlor. He looked even more haggard than he had a week ago, during his last visit to Austria's estate. His eyes were sunken and he looked dog-tired. The war effort was already grating on him and the split of support in his own country was likely tearing him apart inside. Four more years of this and I could see how he lost. He was just exhausted.
After him, Italy scurried into the room. He seemed a bit meeker at the moment, as if he just got scolded. Upon seeing me though, he perked up and raced to my side. "Oh, it's you! Bella signora! I made you some yummy food, but Germany—uh, Ludwig said you couldn't eat it! Are you allergic to pasta? Is that it? If you are, I promise to make you the best non-pasta pasta that you could ever imagine! It'll be just like pasta, but not actually pasta, you see—"
"Italy! Do not talk to the prisoner."
Looking properly chastised, Feliciano nodded his head and gave me a forlorn look. "Ve~ I am so sorry. It looks like I cannot talk to you." Yes, it did appear that way, didn't it? Grinning happily, he flittered over to Hungary's side and began to talk to her. "You know, Miss Hun—Elizabeta, I did make her the most wonderful pasta ever. Ger—Ludwig threw it away. Said that I was being too nice to the prisoner. She's not a prisoner though, is she? She's just a pretty lady, right? Ah, I know! She's the princess! She's the damsel in distress! Now all she needs is a handsome prince to come and—"
"ITALY!"
Greece chose that moment to 'wake up.' In all honesty, I think he was saving Italy from another earful. And subsequently the rest of us a killer headache from an irritated, ranting German headcase. "Well, you sure took your time, didn't you?" Heracles sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.
Germany stopped mid-insult. With a jerk, he looked over to Greece's dull expression. "What?"
"I've been here for hours. Good place to sleep, by the way. You're the one who was late." His eyes flickered over to me. "Better late than never, I suppose." I sent him a small smile before looking away, training my eyes on the window. "You wanted to speak to me about something? I have a lot to do, you know. Orders to fulfill and people to massacre..."
Woah, Blunt Greece.
He certainly didn't sugarcoat anything, did he?
To his credit, Germany was able to keep his temper and shock in check. The surprise only lasted a moment before he hid it behind a stoic mask. "I apologize if you were busy, Herr Heracles. You see, I just needed to speak with you about a few things. First, however, I have another issue to deal with." His sharp blue eyes turned to me. Almost out of habit, his emotions were pushed out of his eyes and they became cold, nearly mechanical. I wondered briefly if this was how he dealt with the reality of torturing a prisoner, blocking it out. "How are you feeling, Dr. Daniels?"
"Well enough." I didn't like how this was going. He was far too cold today. "Though, admittedly, my day will take a turn for the worse if you lock me up again."
"Yes, I would assume so. Though it would seem that is of your own stubbornness," he retorted. With slow, deliberate steps, he advanced on me. This made Elizabeta remove her hand from my arm and made Italy take a few steps back. Greece watched with a hawk-like gaze as the blond Nation neared.
For a normally lethargic Nation, Greece was every bit the warrior I expected he had ever been. He was considering all the possible actions and reactions.
And chose not to act.
I wasn't at all surprised.
No one would bother.
"You are still being uncooperative."
"Correct," I nodded. His German baroque was growing thicker with agitation.
"And you still have no intention of sharing your knowledge?"
"None."
"Very well then," he sighed. "If you continue to refuse, then I have no choice but to move to more drastic measures of persuasion. Your hair is gone, I see. It's longer than I would have liked though." I didn't allow any emotion onto my face, but I felt my stomach drop. My hair was only a few inches long. It didn't even touch my ears. "I assume you now know the date. Yes, I have no choice but to become harsher with you."
"Ve~ but Mister Germany—"
"Italy, shut up!"
I noticed that Japan had placed a calming hand on Feliciano's thin shoulder. He withdrew it immediately though, as if realizing that he had touched someone.
When did Japan arrive?
It didn't matter.
I steeled myself to my resolve.
I could do this.
I could.
Germany shifted, leaning down to my eye level. Controlling my reaction, I stopped myself from pulling back. Instead, I just stared at him. He stared right back, unimpressed by my acts of rebellion. Though I could and would never outright provoke the Aryan Nation, I was not opposed to under-the-surface prodding—if only to irritate him a little. "How do you like darkness, Doctor?"
Stilling, I flicked my gaze toward the only unknown in the room.
Greece was watching the exchange with a rigid posture, his hands gripping the armrests with such strength that his knuckles were turning white.
Well, I appreciated the emotion behind the action at least.
He didn't like this as much as it seemed Hungary didn't like it. And she was currently fuming beside me, barely holding herself in check. Greece was angry. That, of itself, was surprising and endearing. Was he too old for any of this? Did he think of this as just another war? With his current occupation, did he hate Germany just as much as the rest? They were all questions that I considered for the moment.
Then, that moment was pushed aside. Germany's hand was strong on my upper arm as he wrenched me up from my seat. I was standing in an instant, choking back a yelp at the pain that sent tremors through my body.
"Oh no," Italy whispered under his breath. I swung my attention to him, only to catch the most heartbreaking stare that I had yet to see.
Italy looked sick, terrified, and hurt. His tearful eyes swept up from my bony legs to my thinned torso, and then up to my face. Frankly, it was a little embarrassing. Although I looked nothing like what many would look like at the end of the war, I did look quite terrible. My once full face was gaunt. With only bread and water for weeks, it had made me thin out a lot quicker than normal. That had quite an effect on my overall health. I still had some muscles, but they weren't going to last much longer.
It wasn't dangerously unhealty, just a stark difference from the way I arrived. My extra meat was long gone and that difference was visible enough to inspire shock.
It seemed that even Germany was surprised by my "frail" state because his grip eased just slightly before tightening again. There was a flash, however momentarily, of the peaceful Nation behind the Nazi rule. It was a glimpse of how he would be in the future.
He wasn't evil. And I knew that. I knew that he was in a difficult situation, just like everyone else. He was bound to his role and, no matter what, he had to do what was best for his people. It didn't help that with different factions in Germany, his mind was likely split—maybe it was like a million voices screaming at him to act in different ways. I couldn't say.
If my thin legs surprised him, then he only had to wait a few years to see the true destruction that would come of his political regime.
Then, like an almighty gale, anger hit me. My appearance was nothing compared to how the victims of the camps would look like after liberation. And these Nations were surprised by this…this loss of weight? Some people weren't even getting the blessing of bread or water. Others had nothing, not even life. Especially in the death camps. They were already feeling guilt over my slight malnutrition.
"Wait a few years and then you can feel guilty," I muttered. Before anyone could question me about it, I turned my face up to Germany's stunned expression. "I suppose my psychological torture begins anew? Perhaps a darkened dungeon where no light can penetrate? Will you shear the rest of my hair off? Really make me live without food or water? How long would it take then before I wither away?"
"Michelle!"
Hungary was worried, worried for me. I sent her a small, comforting smile. "It's alright. I knew this was coming. Otherwise, he would have kept me in that bedroom. He knows that physical torture would likely kill me so it only stands to reason that he would attack my emotions. Right, Ludwig?"
"Smart woman," he agreed. "You are far smarter than those Allied fools."
"I think you'd be surprised. They might look stupid, but they're a lot smarter than they look, you know."
"They?"
The entire room seemed to go still at the implication in Greece's tired drawl. I felt my stomach drop and I sucked in a breath. What did I do? What did I just do? Terror ripped through my chest as I looked around at the surrounding Nations. They all stared at me as if I had outted some huge secret. Which I did. Germany's face contorted into various degrees of rage while shock rippled around to all the others.
They knew.
They knew I knew.
"Oh God…I-I-It's not what you think."
"You know," Germany growled. I winced backward, but there was no escape.
There was never an escape, was there?
Author's Section:
I put the trigger warning there for the issues of war-time abuse, hair shearing, and torture. As well as eating disorders. It was a heavy, heavy chapter. And I apologize for it. Even so, I am sticking with history here. This was such a dark time in history and I had to acknowledge that fact without getting out of canon. I hope I did well the characterizations. And perhaps Michelle's development as well. Let me know what you think.
