A/N: I REALLY procrastinated with this one. I guess life was a bit more hectic than usual. But my winter vacation is coming soon, so the next chapter won't take as long. I hope.
Anyway, something I wanted to mention real quick concerning reviewers and my PM responses. Look, if you ask anything about my opinions and then ends up telling me about your opinions, I will inevitably disagree with you on something and engage in debate with you on the matter, and I'll tell you I disagree with you, and I will explain exactly why I disagree with you. Don't expect me to just nod out of politeness the moment you show yourself to be offended or put off or when you hint that you don't feel like having an idea challenged.
What I've noticed by talking to people here and also by writing this story is its power to help me properly turn my thoughts and ideas into solid opinions, which by consequence, helps me wisen up and helps me understand when a thought or idea is bad, because you can't quite see that something is not a good idea until you flesh out the idea in a nitid manner and/or discuss it with other people, which is all a great experience and I never miss the chance to have it.
So my point is, don't get into an argument with me and then simply stop when you get offended and/or the conversation becomes difficult. I hate silent agreements. If that's genuinely difficult and you actually do not want to continue, say so. If you start something, finish it with words. Not for me, but for yourself. Push through a difficult argument or speak up about wanting to stop straight up.
Because I don't pull punches. Pulling punches might spare your feelings, but it doesn't help me. I'm not here to spare people's feelings, so the choice here is obvious.
Just making that very clear, Hm'kay? Hm'kay. :)
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Chapter 25
Hand in Hand
Northeast of Barcelona (UTC +2) 10:16 p.m.
Spain stared in desolation at the screen of his phone, the call ending up on voice mail. He sighed heavily and turned it away from him, leaving its screen down on the counter of the bar and lightly pushing it further away.
The soft and calm music did little to comfort him.
Instead, he turned to his glass of Sangria, the dark red liquor was very attractive at that moment. Although, instead of drinking it, he laid his head down with his cheek on the wooden surface and simply stared at the ice melting within the cup.
Long, stressful weeks required some time off, away from the judgment. Spain grimaced before he straightened himself, took a long swig from his drink, and then laid down on the previous position again. Nothing was better than alcohol whenever he needed to numb some feelings.
He felt like this would be his life from now on. Even if he could hide from the media forever, his people were still listening and the sensation of judgment was in the very air. He couldn't hide, though. Sooner or later he would be confronted, about the many, many terrible things he's done in the past.
He'd only checked what they were saying once, and it was like a slap to the face.
The ice in the cup melted enough to clink into a different position, and Spain blinked lazily at it. He felt a buzz on the wooden surface, his eyes widened momentarily and he turned to his phone, picking it up and checking. It was a text.
'Pls don't text or call me when drunk.'
Ah, Argentina… Spain stared for a second before letting out a cynical, if not defeated laugh. His children had little compassion for him. Spain laid back on the previous position.
He's been feeling… like he needed just a little bit of comforting. The purest form of comfort to humans has always been family, so… Spain wanted that warmth too. He cared about the little ones, wanted to be close… Like a real family.
Little Argentina, despite having forgiven him, was still not very warm…
Not just this child, but all of them, the ones who forgave him and the ones who didn't, all tended to keep a certain… precautionary distance. Physically and emotionally.
Spain honestly didn't blame them, he was a bit of a monster when raising them.
He eased the feeling of shame and guilt by blaming it on his time growing up with the Moors. It didn't exactly make a compassionate Nation out of him, and the habits and personality he'd developed with them left a long-lasting mark.
Or so he hoped that was the case.
He could hardly bring himself to believe that logic, though. Sometimes, he thought he was simply rotten to the core…
He vaguely remembers his mother lamenting that he was the more problematic child. Although maybe that wasn't worth a lot, because she wasn't very motherly either way, preferred to spend her time hunting beasts or playing with him and Portugal in a manner that usually got them hurt.
She didn't really care, just as she didn't care when the two of them hurt each other. They were the little nameless things she played with, never bothering to actually raise or even name them properly.
They were attached to her either way. She never told them to follow her, but they did.
Portugal was more behaved, though, seemed to prefer playing with the human kids in the villages they passed through. Spain had noticed quickly that the human kids were… boring. He tried playing with them, but they always got hurt, which was why he was called 'a problem' by his mother.
The kids just started crying and didn't want to play anymore.
Portugal, who played just as blandly as they did, was also boring. The only one who was fun was his mother, who was, well… violent.
Violence was fun.
That was him, when dealing with enemies and when dealing with friends, as well as when dealing with children, never really noticing that he was the only one who didn't mind such things. He felt like that never really changed, even though he's tried to change it.
He swore he'd turn a new leaf at the turn of the 20th century. It was a century of change, after all. Everything seemed to be changing, so… Spain did his best to change into a better person after all of that… He didn't want to have fun with violence anymore, he didn't want to ignore others' pain, but did that really matter to anyone now…?
Neither his children nor the media seemed inclined to care. All that mattered was who he was in the past and the suffering he'd caused without care, which was something he'd never be able to change and would have to simply live with, forever.
He straightened up again to take the last swig of his drink, emptying the glass. He sighed and raised the glass, signaling the bartender to serve him more. The man had been ready, as usual.
Spain liked this bar and went there often, so that was expected.
It was a quaint, old-school style, with wooden walls and illuminated with dim flame-like lights. It made Spain comfortably nostalgic.
As his cup was filled, Spain caught a presence approaching the area. He sighed and lowered his full glass as he waited. He'd invited someone, of course. It's better to drink with a drinking buddy, someone who could handle alcohol better than him, in case he extrapolated his limits and ended up beyond the realm of rationality.
The last thing he wanted was to wander outside completely drunk and get into an unlucky situation that would be seen on the morning news.
He was already a Nation his people couldn't exactly be proud of. He didn't need 'drunken idiot' on the list.
He heard the soft chiming of the door opening and sighed, closing his eyes and laying down on the counter as he waited. The sound of steps stopped beside him. "Drunk already?" Came the voice, with a German-accented Spanish.
"No, no. Just tired, already." Spain mumbled. The chair beside him was pulled and he opened his eyes to see his white-haired friend. "Aren't you?"
Prussia grinned almost derisively, confirming Spain's assessment with a nod. "Am indeed. The Lügenpresse is working hard."
Spain grimaced, sitting straight to face the German Nation. "Don't use that word… It's got a bad taste, you know?"
Prussia scoffed, waving him off. "The original meaning still works just fine. It fits, especially when it comes to us." He tilted his head at Spain, but blinked, then pointed at his drink. "I don't know what that is, but I want it too."
"It's Sangria. Good choice."
"Eh, I'm sure it is."
.
They kept their conversation hushed. There were other few people in the bar as well. The music remained soft and helped keep their words somewhat private.
"He really did it then…?" Spain wondered, shoulders hunched as he stared down at his drink.
"He did. I thought everyone knew at this point, but maybe they all just agreed to not talk about it. It wasn't that long ago, and I guess the Allied Nations don't really gossip a lot." Prussia leaned back a bit, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds.
"I just heard rumors. I didn't spend too much time with you guys, after all." Spain shrugged. "I didn't want to fight any other Nation."
"Ja, ja… 'new leaf' and all. That's fine."
"Must have hurt…" Spain commented quietly, drawing circles with his finger distractedly on the wooden surface. "For Alemania…"
Prussia remained quiet, looking back down at his own drink, swirling the glass a bit before taking a quick sip. Only then he replied. "It's difficult to kill leaders, eh…? Even if they are completely crazy and detestable…"
Spain smiled in cynical amusement. When so many of your humans placed the role of authority on a single person, it naturally created a strong bond. Spain himself hated many of his leaders, and that bond was the barrier stopping him from killing them in their sleep.
Like a self-defense mechanism, keeping them safe from themselves. It wouldn't do for human leaders to be killed seemingly at random just because they didn't get along with their own Nation.
How would any system function with wrenches being thrown into it so regularly?
So… the amount of willpower Germany must have exerted from himself to do it… "Is he still hiding?"
Prussia sighed. "Ja."
"He wanted everyone to find people to support us, to then gain the people's trust more slowly." Spain glanced at Prussia from the corner of his eyes.
"Hm…" Prussia rolled his eyes slowly. "Easier said than done. I guess that was the plan, until reality hit him again and he realized he was too scared of the media to do it." He raised his glass close to his mouth. "He's been spending more time outside reality than in it. Of course it would smack him at some point…"
Spain's grip on his own glass tightened. "Si…"
"We can't hide forever, you know?"
His shoulders twitched.
Prussia suddenly laughed quietly. "Yeah, that's the feeling I get too. This century was the worst possible time for this shit to happen." He gestured over them with one arm. "This is our lives now, and we're fucked. No way out except holing ourselves underground or something." Prussia grinned at him. "I don't know about you, but my pride wouldn't let me do that."
Spain merely whimpered. "I can't do this…" He couldn't understand how Prussia dealt with this so calmly. He had a lot on his record, wasn't he afraid? Spain had much more to be ashamed of, certainly, but Prussia's life was no picnic either. He had his sins tallied up as well.
"You're being pathetic, you know…?" Prussia raised his fist to his cheek to support his head, sighing to himself.
"It's the drink."
"Nobody likes a whiny drunk. I preferred when you were an angry drunk. At least then it was fun."
Spain shuddered lightly. "New leaf."
"Of course."
Ever since he'd first met Prussia, he's always been like this. Overly-confident, not very self-conscious of what others thought of him. Hell, that first time was when the German Nation walked deep into Moors' territory dressed as a Teutonic Crusader.
You don't get any more cocky and smug than that, which simply meant Prussia could not possibly be hiding from the media like him. Spain frowned. "You know… I thought you were here because you wanted to hide too." So there it goes, Spain's kindred spirit…
Prussia had finished his drink and was gesturing to the bartender for more, a request which was quickly attended. "No, not exactly- well…" He corrected himself. "It is a drag to deal with them right now, there's plenty who want to talk in front of cameras for the whole country to see, but… I just really want my brother to learn how to deal with these things." Prussia shrugged. "I thought that maybe if he were cornered, he would get it together."
"That is so cruel…" Spain commented quietly with wide eyes.
Prussia seemed to reluctantly agree, because he leaned away and averted his eyes. "I-I can't hold his hand forever!"
"So cruel…"
"Stop it…!"
.
.
.
It's not that Prussia didn't like having friends.
It certainly beats having no friends, because then he'd only have enemies. Who would be watching his back then? Well, it's not that he'd fully trust someone – other than his brother – to watch his back, either.
But he liked having friends, especially in times where there were no wars to think about. He didn't have to wonder if they'd be stabbing him in the back or not and he was better off expecting that from human politicians.
Yeah, it was good to have friends.
It's just that he'd prefer if he didn't end up saddled with situations like this. "You know… We, being friends, it's the only reason I'm doing this." Prussia grunted as he pulled an arm over his shoulder, so a completely piss-drunk Spain wouldn't trip over his own feet as he walked him along.
"Heheeh… You're a great friend…" Was the slurred response.
"I better be." He was already doing such a favor, dragging him back to his hotel room, because clearly, Spain couldn't afford the mental faculties to Hop anywhere, so Prussia would be paying for an extra room – he sure as hell wasn't sharing a bed.
"You- You know who's NOT a great friend…?"
"Hm…?" Prussia hummed distractedly, trying to read the street sign in the distance with the somewhat poor lighting of this path.
"My… damn brother…!"
Prussia rolled his eyes with a sigh. It was too late for this shit.
"That coward…!" He raised a shaking fist to the air for a second. "Y-You know what…? I-I'm gonna- I gotta talk to him- Now…!"
Prussia kept him in place when he tried wandering off. "No, you're not. You're drunk."
"But I need to-"
"You can Hop to his border later, when you're sober." He couldn't believe he was playing babysitter on a Saturday. Well, at least Spain owned him a favor now. "Heh…" He found himself more amused by this whole state of affairs. "I never thought… I would ever be dragging your drunk-ass to my hotel room back when we first met…" Maybe Prussia also had a little too much to drink, because he didn't normally think of that day…
"…Sorry… 'bout trying to kill you…"
"That's fine… I was there to kidnap you." They both laughed, although Spain sounded like he was about to fall asleep. "That queen of yours- not exactly yours then- She did pay some pretty penny to find you and take you back to her and… you were with the Moors… so…" Prussia was sure Spain had been taken by them when young, so of course he was a Muslim Nation through and through at that point.
That event between the two of them wasn't really recorded in history, of course. It was an event between Nations only.
The queen of one of the northern Kingdoms on the Iberian Peninsula didn't want any other Nation for her kingdom. She wanted that Nation, the one she perceived to have been stolen long ago. She offered a great sum of money to any Nation in Europe – or even elsewhere – who could take her request of fighting the now Moor Nation and bringing him back by force.
Since clearly, no human was up to the task.
They did try, several times in fact. It never ended well.
Prussia was okay with some extra cash, and the Crusades were still pretty much going. Although Prussia was no longer a Teutonic Knight at that point, he did miss his black and white uniform, that was just a plus.
So he went into their territory in search of his target – finding resistance from many humans, but nothing he couldn't deal with – and picked a fight as soon as he found him. There were few Nations who could best Prussia in a one-on-one sword fight, and Spain – Al-Andalus at the time – wasn't one of them.
It was a fun fight. Muslim Nations were even more dramatic than the Crusaders with the whole 'Holy War' thing, so Prussia played the part just to get on his last nerves.
Still. He had to carry on his horse a rather irritating and violent little tied-up mutt who spent more time muttering Quranic curses that probably promised him pain – Prussia didn't understand Arabic, after all – than in blessed silence, much to Prussia's exasperation.
It was the worst, to be honest, but worth the money.
Prussia thought that Christian monarchs harboring a Muslim Nation – not exactly known for their love of dialogue back then – was a stupid idea, even if he were locked up. But after taking his money, Prussia washed his hands of them and went back home, the whole mission just another experience to add to his resume of accomplishments.
Somehow, that lovely queen wasn't torn to shreds. Somehow, she convinced a rather faithful Muslim Nation to commit apostasy and switch sides. She must have been some sort of blessed angel.
"Tough queen you had there, eh…? I wonder-" Prussia stopped and raised an eyebrow when the weight beside him doubled and he nearly fell forward. He adjusted his posture and threw a light scowl at his friend. "Of course, asleep already. Welp," Prussia shrugged and continued on regardless. "I'll just drag you then."
So he did.
Just then, as they passed by a wide alleyway, Prussia blinked, hearing steps, but holding a person and not being in his territory where he could passively sense others around him, he wasn't fast enough to move and someone hit them both.
"What the-!" Prussia hit the ground sitting, dropping Spain as well, who whined when hitting the ground as well. Prussia glared at the perpetrator. "Watch where-!" He stopped.
The woman who hit them was on the ground as well, wearing some relatively formal suit, massaging her calves under her stockings. She wasn't wearing high-heels, which were dangling from her wrist instead. She barely looked at him, wide eyes turned at the alley instead. "Oh my God- just- I'm-" As if giving up on apologizing, she got up and began walking away at a brisk pace. "You should get out of here, señor…!"
Prussia remained close to Spain, but held her arm. "Whoa, whoa, wait there! At least apologize!"
"Stop yelling!"
"You're yelling too!"
"That's because you yelled first!"
Prussia paused when hearing the sound of a car running very fast, approaching quickly enough that the woman heard it too after a few more seconds of trying to pull away.
She seemed to panic and Prussia narrowed his eyes. "Is someone after you?" He stood up. "…Touchy-feely migrants or something?"
"What? No!" She seemed properly confused, which meant honesty there.
'Getting paranoid, huh…?' Prussia quietly berated himself for assuming so quickly.
A light shone from the other end of the alleyway, there was a street on the other side of the block, and the light turned towards them. A car turned into the alleyway, barely fitting, and the engine gave a warning roar.
The woman made a terrified high-pitched noise and Prussia scowled, bending down to pick his friend as the car accelerated, and he pushed all three of them out of the way a few seconds before the vehicle passed by, tires screeching loudly as it stopped some 10 meters from them.
"What the hell…" Prussia hissed in annoyance. He turned and dropped a still sleeping Spain more carefully. "…How long are you sleeping for, you idiot…!" He hissed to the other Nation, but quickly turned to the possible threat.
Humans weren't much of a threat, but he wasn't exactly alone. He briefly glanced at the woman, raising an eyebrow.
She wasn't staring at the men who walked out of the car, she was staring wide-eyed at Spain instead. As the doors closed, she gasped and grabbed the Nation, holding him close as if trying to hide him.
"…What are you doing…?!" He hissed at her and she only shook her head rapidly. Prussia turned to the men instead.
He scanned all four of them. One seemingly unarmed at the front, two with blunt weapons, bat and crowbar, and one with a simple fire-weapon, medium-caliber pistol, at the back. All very… Spanish. Prussia almost scoffed to himself.
Paranoid indeed.
The one he guessed to be the leader gave them a plastic smile. "Holla, Señorita Cécil. We told you, we just want to talk." He raised a hand in mock amity.
Now named Cécil didn't respond, only glared.
Prussia placed a hand on his waist and moved to stand in between them. "Is that how you signal that you want to talk?" He wondered sarcastically. "I feel bad for any chick you try to flirt with in that case."
One of the men, the one holding a bat, adjusted his stance, hitting it on his palm. Prussia wasn't fazed.
The leader gave him a tight smile, rubbing his chin as if trying to look pensive. "Lo siento, do I know you, Alemán?"
Prussia shrugged as he cracked his knuckles with a smug grin. "Eh, maybe, I'm all over YouTube apparently."
"Jefe…" The one who had been more passive with his posture leaned closer to his boss with wide eyes. "…I think he's one of them, one of the German ones…!"
The atmosphere changed. You could hear a pin drop if it wasn't the engine of the car still running in the background.
The leader seemed to change his demeanor entirely and he backed away. "Wow, okay… Lower the gun, will you-" He turned back to see his frozen underling, still holding the weapon. "Lower the fucking gun, do you want to start something with the Germans…?! You disrespectful moron!" Only then the man moved, hiding the gun inside his suit and keeping his hands off of it. The others backed away with the weapons lowered as well.
Prussia stared in awed confusion. Was he that intimidating now?
"Okay," The leader began as he backed away with his hands up. "we don't want any trouble with the Germans, we just want some information, which Cécil over there has. We were not going to hurt her. Swear…!"
Prussia was still waiting for the first attack, not believing much of what he was hearing. His posture was still tense and ready for combat. He tapped his foot impatiently for a few seconds. "…And who the fuck are you?"
"Ah, we're uh, members of a… little private group, stationed in this country for a long time." The man took another cautious step back, gauging Prussia's reaction.
Prussia imagined they couldn't be doing anything legal. "Alright, kids." Prussia relaxed minutely. "It's not really my jurisdiction to deal with you-" That was Spain's and his government's job.
"We know-"
"Shut up." Prussia gritted his teeth at the interruption. "As I was saying, you're not my problem, but that doesn't mean I won't beat the shit out of you if you don't get out of my sight."
Besides being armed and chasing a young woman in the middle of the night, the corners of tattoos could be seen where clothes didn't cover skin. Obvious thugs.
This seemed to annoy the leader, he made a poor attempt at hiding it. He leaned to the side a bit, as if trying to look at the woman, expression shifting to curious confusion. "Wait, wait… Who's that with her…?"
"A drunk friend of mine." Prussia copied his movement. "Better leave, while you still got the chance."
They all sort of had variant versions of the same reaction, annoyed reluctance. They walked back, the leader never looking away from the direction where Cécil was, his eyes saying 'this isn't over' loud and clear.
Prussia tapped his foot as he watched them get into their vehicle and drive away, a lot calmer than when they arrived.
He stopped his tapping and waited in silence for a few more seconds, until he was sure he couldn't hear the engine anymore, then turned to the woman, thumb pointed in the direction they left. "…What the fuck did you do to these people?"
She didn't respond. In fact, she wasn't even looking at him. She had her eyes on the Nation, whom she held rather… lovingly and close to her chest, hand on his cheek, which made Prussia think of the possibilities.
She either knew him, intimately, or… she was one of those internet crazies who thought Nations were gods. There were other minor possibilities, but these were usually the most likely ones in his head.
She suddenly sniffed, briefly looking at him and he could see tears… Ah… "T-Thank you…! So much, for making them leave…!" She wiped her eyes.
"Yeah, that's what I live for…" Prussia moved closer to take the Nation from her arms. "Alright, I have to take Sleeping Beauty over here to a hotel room." Since the bastard wouldn't wake up, even with all the racket.
She gave him a look of pure dismay, not letting go. "B-But I-"
"You should go home."
"I-I shouldn't be walking alone…?"
"Then call an Uber or something…!"
"They were banned last year…!"
Prussia growled in annoyance, successfully prying the Nation from the woman's grabby hands, which made her let out a pathetic sound that reminded him of a kicked puppy. He held his still completely-out-of-it friend over his shoulder for practicality. "My fucking conscience be damned…" He exhaled tiredly. "Follow us, then."
She gave him a teary and grateful smile. "Thank you, señor Nación!" She stood and followed closely.
"Ja, ja…" Prussia rolled his eyes. Here he thought he would be going home by now… What a long night. Germany was probably pacing, a lot.
.
.
.
He glared darkly at the chains around his wrists, skin chaffed from when he tried to forcefully wriggle his hand out of the loop of metal chained to the wall.
With no success.
How pathetic, he thought to himself. How could he get himself captured, by an infidel no less…?! He deserved all the lashes he'd get once he got out of this hole. For being so unbelievably incompetent in a fight with a Crusader Nation.
With nothing else to do, Al-Andalus leaned back on the wall, glaring daggers at the bars between him and freedom, then turned to observe his cell once again, eyes narrowing further. At least they were smart enough to not leave anything that could serve as possible weapons in his cell. Even the fire holder was placed a little far for him to grab, which left his immediate surroundings rather dark.
Damn them…
Then, the door of the dastardly dungeon was opened, light shining through and getting brighter as someone holding a fire walking in. "Back already?" He mumbled, irritated that his source of frustration was back so soon.
"I'm sorry my presence bothers you…" The voice said, not sarcastic, just weak and pathetic. "But I told you I would be back soon."
He responded with a silent sneer. The infidel woman held a torch, which she placed on the empty metal holder on the wall – still too far for him to grab and run through her throat. She grabbed the stool on the corner and placed at a calculated distance from his cell, where she knew he couldn't quite reach.
She held that accursed book on her lap.
If only he could reach her. He stretched his fingers at the thought. If only he were strong enough to break these damn chains… This conclusion brought the memory of that loathsome Crusader, with his long cross-like sword – seemingly made to send a message – smirking, like he knew the battle was won before it even began.
He shrunk into himself with a glare at the woman. He's not strong enough, so he must endure, as a consequence of his weakness.
"Sometimes, I feel like you're not listening to anything I'm saying, Hispania." The woman suddenly said, her eyes glued to the open book on her lap.
"…That's not my name." Al-Andalus hissed through his teeth, the name bringing uncomfortable memories he's long left aside.
"You are Hispania, taken from us long ago…" She whispered softly. "The Northern Kingdoms cannot belong to a stolen Nation."
"You don't have to worry about that…" His lips formed a menacing grin. "The Northern lands will be mine – your king will be nailed to a cross and you will be a slave."
The woman's expression remained passive, shifting into something he could recognize as… pity, which only made him scowl. She blinked slowly, tapping her book before looking down at it. "A Nation without God's guidance is a Nation without direction. Happy are those who keep God's law. Hmm…" She sighed, thinking to herself most likely.
He scoffed derisively. Who said he didn't have God's guidance? He was following the rules by the book! Who said he's got no direction? He and all the other Nations of the Caliphate knew exactly where they were all going. This woman made no sense whatsoever, and her attempts at wavering his faith with that corrupt book were-
"Are you happy…?"
"…Huh?" Al-Andalus raised an eyebrow, tone showing his obvious incredulity. "What kind of question is that?"
"A simple question… Are you happy?"
He stared for a few seconds, his eyes narrowing, then he relaxed and crossed his arms, the chains clanking along. "I get to kill unbelievers like you, serve my human leaders as per told, and enjoy heaven once I'm done… Why wouldn't I be happy?"
Sure, it wasn't the most comfortable station, the humans had a lot of things he wanted, the Sheik got all the pleasure and comfort he asked for, the punishments for breaking even the smallest rules were harsh, and a Nation couldn't even be granted one measly slave… much less touch a human woman in an indecent manner for some much-needed stress relief…
But these were simply God's rules. Only the Nations who followed the rules would see paradise.
…Sure, Al-Andalus broke the rules in secret every now and then… but he figured that if he did proper Jihad, he'd be forgiven in the end.
There was a quick sign of surprise on her expression, which was back to passiveness once again. "Has… anyone told you… how beings like you came to be…?" She asked with caution, head tilting a bit, but her eyes never leaving his own.
How he came to be…? No, no one has- but why did it matter? He shook his head lightly. "All made by Allah, no? Doesn't your book tell you that as well? I don't see how this is relevant."
She continued to stare with that maddening pity.
Then she looked upwards pensively. "Man was made by God from the ground up, a perfect creation, and He gave him a pure soul, only for it to be corrupted by sin, making all men imperfect. However, even when corrupt, the human soul is still a wondrous creation… Too many of them in one place, with emotional attachment to their land, a common name to bind and unite them, common customs and language, a bond that lasts through time…" She held her book closer to her chest. "Their souls together create something, like God did. But we're not God, we're imperfect and sinful, we cannot create an actual soul, no matter how many of us there are."
He stared glassily at her, the words processing without him noticing.
"That which doesn't possess a soul cannot inherit heaven, Hispania…" She finished, hugging the book close as she watched him carefully.
Silence followed for several seconds. "…I have no reason to believe a single word you're saying." He rasped. What does a woman know of spiritual matters anyway? They're deficient, both in spirit and intelligence.
The woman blinked with sadness glittering in her eyes. Her lips formed a firm line as she stood and approached his cell, close enough that he could certainly reach her if he was fast enough. This was his chance, but… his body was frozen on the floor.
"Like all animals and all nature were made to be of our service, all Nations too, are to serve us for the same reasons. You're not like us, you serve like all creation because, in your core, you know you were not made to have what was promised to us."
His fists clenched until his palms stung and bled. The cell seemed just a bit darker. Her figure looked… just a bit more menacing. He had no words, but oh… how he wanted to rip her apart with his bare hands…
.
Spain's breath hitched and he blinked drowsily, a hand was ruffling his hair lightly and stopped, the eyes now staring from above were wide, facial features painfully familiar from the one in his dream, and for half a second, he thought he was looking at the same woman who burned and rebuilt his world so long ago.
Naturally, his answer was to immediately scream and back away.
She did the same, except Spain was the one to fall off the edge of the bed. "Ow, ow…" His legs were still over the bed, and that face appeared again, expression a mix of worry and sympathy, all which he felt clearly through his senses.
His citizen, then. "C-Clarisa…?"
"Holla… Antonio…" She waved weakly.
He felt his cheeks burning, so he quickly sat up to save himself any more embarrassment.
"So." A loud voice interrupted them, they both looked to where a dresser with a mirror laid, its chair occupied by a familiar albino. "You really do know each other." He nodded to himself with a faux-pensive expressive. "Cute. I'm gonna leave you two alone then." He stood from his seat, going towards the door, stopping as he opened it only to point at them. "Don't fuck in the room I'm paying for." With that, he was gone.
Both shifted uncomfortably. Spain rubbed his temples, a mild headache settling into his head. Clearly, his body wasn't done getting rid of the toxins just yet. Maybe he needed-
A bottle was offered, and Spain blinked at it. Water. Just what he needed. Clarisa wasn't looking at him, preferred to awkwardly look into another direction. Spain took it, feeling just as awkward.
"So… what… are you doing here…?" He asked while unscrewing the cap.
Was this why he dreamed of that particular memory…? Did he pick up on a familiar presence while out cold and had an unconscious reaction…? Seemed pretty reasonable to say so.
Clarisa, who looked somewhat older, more mature than when he last saw her a little more than half-a-decade before, rubbed her hands together. "I live in this city now."
"Oh… Of course…"
"You…?"
"…I like this one bar here." He looked away as he sipped the drink, which was refreshing and mildly distracting.
"Right, right… I guess… Drinking is better than dealing with any journalists…" She shrugged uneasily.
Spain twitched at the reminder and he backed away a bit. "Right… Yeah. I-I haven't been following anything on what they're saying, really-"
"Wait… You… You haven't?!" Her shock hit him along with a hefty dose of relief and a bit of confusion. Women… they always had too many emotions at once…
"No…?"
"I- But-" She stopped, as if unable to continue that train of thought, then huffed in anger. She always got tongue-tied when nervous, he noted with some amusement, which he tried to hide. "Look," Clarisa took a deep breath. "they know you're hiding, and they're saying that you're hiding because 'you know you've done wrong' and now they feel righteous about going after you. You… You shouldn't be hiding!"
Spain stared in surprise for a few seconds, but then lowered his head, hands gripping the plastic bottle tighter. "But I have done wrong."
Clarisa sighed in dismay. "…I thought you had forgiven yourself years ago."
He let out a bitter chuckle. "That was before the whole world could judge me." He stood, leaving the bottle on the ground. "This is different now, I…" He paced a bit before crossing his arms. "I'm not going to defend myself by myself." It wasn't possible, the social media age was too fast for him to keep up on his own.
He doesn't think any Nation ever had to actually defend their actions, even under normal circumstances. Spain didn't think he was even capable of doing it without sounding like he was just making mere excuses, that is, if they didn't accuse him of lying straight away.
No, he wasn't going to dig himself in that hole.
When he looked at Clarisa again, she was pinching the bridge of her nose, but then she looked at him with her lips in a straight line. "If you had been a bit more present in the discourse, you'd have noticed that you're not by yourself! There are people defending you!"
Spain blinked, uncrossing his arms loose. "Eh?"
"And," She continued. "I'm defending you! I've been arguing on your behalf for weeks now! I can't believe you were hiding so much that you didn't notice any of this!" She threw her arms up in exasperation before covering her now reddened face with both hands.
Spain backed away in astonishment. "W-Why would you-?! Didn't I hurt you?! Why are you risking your future to play devil's advocate for me?! Why would anyone-!"
Clarisa had moved from her spot to stand in front of him, her hand covering his mouth. "Just stop freaking out…!" She removed her hand slowly after a few seconds. "Breathe, calm down…"
He did just that while she backed away from his personal space. "…I just don't get it."
Clarisa sighed quietly. "Don't get me wrong… you did hurt me, leaving out of nowhere like that… but, uh… you know… ignoring reality wasn't really my forte. You were right, you couldn't stay forever." She gestured to herself. "I'm approaching my thirties soon, and… look at you, still…" Her brows were tilted sharply upwards as she tried smiling, coming off as a difficult attempt with the sadness he could sense, and he could see the light wrinkles this expression highlighted.
"Ah…" Spain backed away a bit more, feeling guilt twist into his gut. "I shouldn't even have approached you like that… You could have been married by now." And with a family as well. Mothers felt a bit differently to him – and maybe to all Nations as well – so he knew, she never had any children.
He knew she'd always wanted some little ones. But of course, he can't give anyone that…
She rubbed a hand over the ringless finger, seemingly unconsciously because her eyes remained on him. Spain caught a brief feeling of longing, which was gone quickly, making him feel like even more shit than before. "That's fine." She commented quietly. "I think I found purpose somewhere else either way… I went to college, to become a historian. Aaand… I've been gathering followers online." She sighed at the last few words with mildly amused resignation.
Followers… If she defended him, and had people on her side… Were they okay with him then? Spain caught something worrying in her words, though.
He sat on the chair by the dresser, ruffling his hair and then shaking his head lightly. "Is there anything else?" He looked up at her with narrowed eyes.
Her brows rose but she quickly recovered. "What else?"
"Anything you should tell me?" He raised an eyebrow back at her, catching the sudden anxiety.
"Well… There are a million things I would like to talk about, but I wouldn't know where to even start…!" She backed away and sat on the bed, intertwining her fingers over her lap.
Half-truths. Spain nodded. Of course, she had sort of learned how to lie to him, but her attempt was still not good enough. Well… Should he even be pressuring her?
Was it even his business? He told himself he would cut ties years ago. He had already been a self-serving prick for even entering her life like that. He didn't approach because she was Clarisa Cécil. He had decided things before he'd even talked to her.
He did so because… He looked up again, seeing her worried expression. Because of whom she looked like, and that was that. He scoffed and hid his face behind his hands. In the end, he never truly changed, huh? Rotten to the core, then…
"…You know I'm lying… right?" Her tone was tired and uneager. She had no idea what he was actually thinking, which was a relief overall.
Spain nodded but remained silent. He focused on this less worrying matter… What if it was something dangerous? He should protect his humans unquestionably, because they were all he'd ever have. There was nothing without them. He's learned that from her and he kept it close to his heart since then.
"Alright, alright… Alright." Clarisa nodded, eyes cast down. "I didn't want you to get involved with these people… They're… unsavory folks. Violent."
Spain blinked lazily, frowning. "…I'm sure I can handle such people." Violence is an old friend of his, after all…
"No." She snapped, making him flinch back. "This is not something you can brawl your way out of! Not when your identity is public!"
Spain narrowed his eyes, looking away from her. He remained quiet, but the thought of stealth assassinations stuck in the dark corners of his mind, like a coiled snake ready to strike at the moment he indulged the idea.
Almost as if sensing this, Clarisa stood, hands clasped together as if begging him. "Okay, now listen to me, Antonio. The media loves you…!"
Spain almost jumped from his seat. "Huh?!"
"You give them ratings, better than they've had on their own for a long time! They make money out of you!" She gestured to him as a whole. "Whatever you do, whoever you get yourself involved with, they'll focus on it, and if you ever end up getting involved with those unsavory people, we don't know what kind of stories they'll spin…! You're already in a tight position with all the conspiracies they spun around you, while you were hiding!"
Spain stared wide eyed. He had ignored the media entirely. He never even really turned the TV on or touched social media on his phone after the first few times he caught negative reactions. He was completely in the dark, and sometimes, he indulged with the idea that he was being paranoid, that it wasn't that bad out there.
The pure and unrelenting feeling of judgment wasn't part of his imagination after all. Hearing the confirmation of his fears showed him what foolish and dangerous ideas he'd been messing with. "…What do I do…?"
He didn't know how to deal with this and he regretted leaving his house at this point.
"Understand this, Antonio…" Clarisa held his face so he was directly facing her, she was somber. "They love you because they love to hate you. They don't care about what damage they cause you as long as you keep making them money. Not just you, but all Nations in Europe and North America. You cannot make any type of connection to these people, so promise me you won't."
He could never stand his ground in front of this face…
Prussia chewed on his snack, leaning over the railing as he watched the dining hall below. The stairs to his side led down there in a near-straight path curving just slightly at the few steps. The opposite side was another railing, and behind was the hallway that led to rooms and elevator doors that led up, to more rooms. From his spot, nothing could sneak up on him.
He procured such a spot because he's been feeling somewhat jumpy.
Taking another bite, he continued to watch the area, making sure to check for any suspicious characters trying to go near the room Spain and the woman – Cécil – were.
It was easy, as there were very few people around. It seems there was a private event being held somewhere upstairs, which was why he could faintly hear muffled music somewhere above. An entire floor must have been rented for the night…
So far, nobody who passed by seemed off to his eyes. He took the last bite of his snack – something that resembled a muffin of sorts, which Prussia couldn't name – then pulled out his phone, as the place had been quiet for a while, so maybe a few seconds wouldn't hurt.
Where are you?
At Spain's.
That was before arriving at the bar.
You reveal things about me to the entire country and then run to Spain's? What is wrong with you?
Only once he left Spain with the woman did he reply to his brother.
They won't bite if you just stand up for yourself for once. Go deal with them on your own, you're not a child.
The whole exchange was passive-aggressive at best. His brother was not happy with Prussia revealing secrets like that…
Germany probably decided to focus on his work as a way of ignoring him, because he hasn't answered yet, despite the fact that the message was marked as read. Prussia sighed tiredly. He wasn't arrogant enough to think he'd stick around longer than his brother, so he couldn't keep holding his hand…
As Prussia contemplated this, he heard a small commotion downstairs. He blinked and looked at its direction, towards the entrance of the dining hall.
He saw the night guard arguing with two men, both dressed in minimally formal attire with coats of no particular visible quality. Looking to appear of finer class than they actually were and kind of failing too. Prussia watched them argue.
"We're just looking for some people, if you don't mind-"
"Sir, we're not allowed to give information about our clients to suspicious individuals-"
Prussia narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Could they be…? He moved away to hide better.
"Look, pal-"
"Sir, please, don't make me call more security."
Geez, how insistent, Prussia thought, having peeled himself away from the railing and now standing further into the hallway. It seemed the new arrivals didn't actually want trouble, because they were soon leaving. But now Prussia was rather curious. Were they with the same people from before?
He turned on his heels and went back to his first room quickly, reaching it and opening the door quickly, which made both Spain and Cécil jump and back away from each other with a high-pitched 'hie' sound. Prussia casually ran past them and towards the window. "No touching, remember~?" He sang as he opened the window, climbing out without giving either of them any explanations whatsoever as he ignored Spain's feeble questioning.
He knew there was something between the two. Any Nation falling for a human was basically asking for all the pain they got out of it.
"Don't mind me, go back to what you were doing, whatever that was. Seriously, stay there." He sent them a firm look with his last words, and with then he was out and climbing upwards.
Thank the heavens the building wasn't an ugly glass box that was impossible to climb. He passed by all the closed windows, quietly confirming to himself that indeed, there was a little party happening too.
Too bad he was somewhat famous now. He couldn't just barge in to lay siege and take their supply of alcohol.
He focused on the task at hand again, the building wasn't too tall and Prussia reached the top in less than a minute. He leaned over the edge, where he quickly zeroed on the two men, the rest of the street empty and illuminated by the hotel itself and a few street lights.
They walked away and Prussia followed over the rooftops easily, jumping over obstacles easily enough – just rifts from alleyways, not hard to jump over to the next buildings, taller or shorter.
He finally stopped a few blocks away, where a car awaited in front of an alley, its engine still running quietly.
It wasn't the same from before, probably. Prussia could only guess as he watched from a distance. Someone waited outside as the other two approached. Prussia wanted to hear it a bit better, so he moved to the alleyway side of the building and climbed down a few windows, one hand holding to the sill – which groaned lightly but quickly settled – and feet on the wall for better support.
The one who had been waiting looked up from his phone at the two new arrivals. "Did you find out where they went?"
"Sí, that hotel a just few blocks from here."
"Security was too suspicious, so we had to leave."
"Tch, have just a slightly darker skin and suddenly nobody gives you an inch."
"Or maybe it was just the clothes…"
"Yeah right… I know how people are in the north."
"Enough of that…" The first one interrupted tiredly, then sighed. "We won't be encountering the lord today, boys. It's for another time, I guess." The man put his phone in his pocket, then pulled from the other a box of cigarettes, which one of the others lit.
Prussia raised an eyebrow. Who's the 'lord' now? He doubted they were talking about God. They probably knew they were following a Nation, so… Oh, good god… Prussia facepalmed. Were they… those lunatics? The ones who would drop to their knees at the drop of a hat for their Nation?
Maybe some would be flattered, but Prussia found this ridiculous. Humans desperate to worship something other than God were the worst.
Did they assume he'd be meeting Spain somewhere? Maybe they didn't think the drunkard he was carrying could possibly be their 'lord'. Prussia scoffed quietly in amusement, knowing the sound wouldn't reach too far down.
"Dear Cécil doesn't know the blessing she's been granted. If only she'd cooperated, we probably would-"
The one smoking calmly interrupted. "No need for disappointment. Patience is a virtue, after all." He leaned back on the car. "The lord will lead the Garduña to greatness once again after centuries. Our country is flooding with undesirables who taint our lord's blood, but there's still hope – we still have plenty of time…"
Prussia narrowed his eyes. Great… an identitarian cult. But the name sounded vaguely familiar, so he wondered if he should just go back and ask Spain. These were his people, not Prussia's.
As they opened the car's doors, Prussia relaxed as his weight leaned him further, watching as he debated on whether he should follow them or not. However, he heard a crack from the window sill, the old structure giving away under his weight.
Prussia gritted his teeth and grabbed the one bellow before he could fall, the broken sill falling to the floor with a loud 'clank'. "…Shit…" Prussia then looked down at the three men, now staring wide-eyed at him. "Uh… hallo."
A lot of things happened in those next few seconds. Two of the man seemed to panic and quickly got into the car, but the last one pulled out a gun instead, which made Prussia gasp. His feet pushed and he flipped himself off the wall just as a bullet hit his previous spot, the gunshot ringing in the air.
Prussia fell to the ground with a crouch. "Oh, you little-!" As he was about to sprint forward to grab the gun, the shocked man was pulled by the back of his coat inside the car by someone yelling curses from there and it sped away before even closing the door, with a loud grinding of rubber on asphalt and of an engine at full force.
Prussia ran out of the alleyway only to seem the car too far for him to ever reach. His fists clenched as he glared at its retreating form, and then finally huffed, crossing his arms. "Goddamn it…" He could hear dogs barking all around him, it was like the whole neighborhood was suddenly awake. "Tch… I should get out of here." He turned back to the alleyway to climb back up to the top of the building, intending to go back the same way he came.
Someone would be calling the cops, so he really couldn't be found right where a gun was shot.
His most-likely-now-sober Spanish friend had one hell of a problem in his hands. Prussia didn't take a vacation from his country only to help deal with more stressful issues in another Nation's country, Spain already owned him enough, so Prussia wasn't about to stick himself into this nonsense.
He was getting really tired of holding everyone's hand, after all.
A/N: I remember I wanted to write a chapter about Spain, but somehow not only I inched away from politics for a bit and focused more on the media, but I also shoved Prussia in somehow. What can I say, I do love Prussia, he's so fun to write. He's also one of the few sane European Nations. :3
Aaand the whole thing with Clarisa, I could noooot help it, I saw that episode with France and that girl who looked like Joan and boom, the idea wouldn't let go of me. X) Don't spear me dead, let me indulge in some romance for once! I don't hate love! I swear!
...
(Stuff I forgot because I was in a hurry to upload this) You might have noticed I brushed over a few things, mostly because I couldn't find a decent way to jam that information in, like what happened to Spain's mother? Was Portugal captured too? Well, I want to go over that in another chapter, hopefully whenever I find the time to get to Portugal himself. He's a very interesting character in the NFAU. I also didn't really mention Romano, eh? Well, if you focus more in actual history, you might see Spain and South Italy aren't really supposed to be THAT close, but I intend to write more about that too (there, that's all)
I focused more on media this chapter, not government, not immigration, not doomsday or anything. After reading some Spanish history before the Reconquista, I had many interesting ideas and I liked the concept of Spain being captured by the Moors once they invaded the Iberian Peninsula and then raised him as one of their own (after he converted, of course) instead of being endlessly tortured for no reasonable reason like I'd first imagined. I'm not very used to writing Muslim Nations, especially from centuries ago, but I imagine they probably would be... a bit less 'classy' than Europeans.
It was an interesting story to weave around him. Him being captured and then convinced to commit apostasy and convert to Catholicism instead by a queen questioning his entire world view in a dungeon. However, you see I wasn't specific with that queen of his, mostly because the history of these kingdoms of the north is a bit complicated and I don't actually know which one was the dominant spear of the unification of the Peninsula during the Reconquista (nor do I know when the whole thing began to gain traction, only that it was done a little before the 1500's), so I left that open (if anyone knows the specifics, that would be greatly appreciated).
Anyway, the media. Wow, the media in the US has been kicking such a shitstorm recently that I felt a bit inspired. Recently I came across the revolutionary information that the media isn't evil. lol Now bear with me here. While many networks and online journals have writers with bias or ideologies to fulfil, the whole thing is still one giant business, they write for ratings in a bubble and have absolutely zero self-reflection, so they don't even notice the damage they cause, and probably don't really care too much. They got a business to run, a public audience to cater to. Is that incredibly stupid and borderline (if not completely) unethical? Yes! But don't call the stupid evil for being stupid. They're just stupidly negligent with their responsibilities to the point of nearly causing manslaughter! Yay for the media!
Which is why I think the media would love Nations. Talking about them gives them ratings, and making ludicrous stories gives them even better ratings, so they run with it, uncaring of the damage they're causing, exactly like they do in the real world. This is going to be… such a mess.
Moving on, to Garduña. That's actually a mythical group from Medieval Spain, said to have done the dirty work of The Inquisition, but probably non-existent. I still thought it was really interesting, because they're also said to be, technically, the founders/precursors of the Italian Mafia as well, as they operated in Sicily as well.
This is one of the things I've been meaning to actually add to this story, the worship of Nations. That no humans would do this is total nonsense.
We've seen in history and in society, is like people have this drive to worship something… If not God, as 'Atheism' grows, then the State, they think the State can/will solve all of their problems, Commies and Socialists alike tend to be like this. But not only there, but have you seen pop singers' fans? That is worship, they scream and rave and try to touch even a measly inch of their clothing with such an unrelenting adoration that it cannot be called anything other than worship, and it has happened many times over with celebrities and pop stars alike. No wonder celebrities tend to break under the pressure, the weight of worship is no joke. Normal people can't really handle it.
Same goes for politicians as well. Anyone who thinks that 'oh, if we elect this ONE guy, everything will be saved' and this is something that happens in my country too, but I'm sure you thought of a different example. And in history, it repeats to deadly extents. The worship of the Leader in the Soviet Union (and now North Korea, for example), or the worship of the Aryan Race in Nazi Germany.
And more modern examples, the worship of multiculturalism and diversity (yes, those are worshiped as well). The worship of nature seen in extremist environmentalists (it's almost a pagan religion at this point, they got their doom's day prophecy and all, as well as their 'Mother Nature' goddess too).
People just… worship things! It's amazing to see this pattern of behavior repeating everywhere in so many different ways. It's a very dangerous thing, whenever it's misplaced or directed against or for something. Atheists tend to really underestimate the power of faith and worship and how much it's ingrained in humanity. You can't get rid of this… Humanity's gotta learn how to live with it without destroying each other.
So I loved developing the thought that this would be applied to Nations as well, although how each of them will react to it… That's a different story. Prussia, of course, finds it ridiculous, he's Christian, so he sees pretty much what I've just explained, and he has experience too. After the Nazis, he'd probably be fed up with this sort of identitarian movement (yes, I know what my profile picture means, piss off). I also highlighted the beginnings of a certain level of paranoia concerning immigrants in him. Starting in this fic's timeline, going up to 2017, it's exactly like this. Any, absolutely any attack or accident or whatever you can think of happens, people will be saying a Muslim did it, whether they have confirmation or not, because it happened so often that, well… people just assume now. Hell, I always wonder when I see these things these days, I catch myself assuming too. I can't help it, I've seen the pattern too many times to ignore it and I guess the brain is wired for it.
Well, I'm out of time to write more, so this is all for now. Read the first note if you haven't, that's important!